


The House that Fear Built

by blackcoffee13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Through Book 5, Canon-Typical Violence, Cliffhangers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, HERMIONE WILL BE OF AGE IN EVERY ASPECT OF THIS FIC, Multi, Mystery & Intrigue, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potential Love Triangle Dynamics, Romance, Slow Burn, minor character death-ish, will get darker as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 134,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffee13/pseuds/blackcoffee13
Summary: With War looming over their heads, her best friend slowly going mad, and the appearance of a mysterious Fifth House, Seventh Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy isn't exactly turning out the way Hermione Granger had intended.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _A few keynotes that I should probably mention before we get underway:_  
>  1) This story is canon-compliant through Book 5, but deviates from there. Dumbledore is alive, Draco didn't join the Death Eaters/didn't let them into Hogwarts, and the Trio isn't going off to search for Horcruxes for all that they are aware of them. Snape is the DADA professor for the first time as of this year with Slughorn having just being re-inducted into the faculty.  
> 2) I haven't officially decided on romantic pairings yet for this story, though I **do** know that Hermione **will not** be paired with Ron. I have my reasons for this. She is likely going to be paired with either one of two Slytherins, or with Viktor Krum, though as I said, it's still to be determined. Will likely be some love-triangle shenanigans going on, to be frank.  
> 3) This is probably going to be a very dark story in a lot of ways. While I will do my best to keep things as canon-typical as possible, I can't promise that I will always be able to do so. I will provide warnings ahead of time, I promise.

September 1st was turning out to be a gray and overcast - even somber - day, a touch chilly even given the time of year, and an equally somber Hermione Granger was approaching the passageway to Platform 9 ¾ with an almost melancholy expression etched into her features.

Thoughts of the upcoming school year were only a small part of the myriad that were swirling around in the witch’s mind, her mind constantly switching between school and her best friends and the upcoming war and Merlin only knew what else, though she pushed those to the side as she stepped through the barrier and looked around, noticing a group of redheads - and one tall, black haired boy among them - her melancholy lifting and a grin replacing the hint of a frown as she pushed her way over to join her second family.

A chorus of ‘Hello Hermione!’ went up as the Weasley’s took notice of her, though Hermione noticed it took Harry a moment to say anything, almost as if he’d been so lost in thought that he wasn’t aware of what was going on around him.

_That could spell trouble…_ She thought to herself.

“All right you lot, onto the train. They’re finishing up boarding now!” Mrs. Weasley chimed in, giving a hug to Ron, Ginny, Harry and then Hermione before shooing them away, standing off to the side as she wiped away a smattering of tears with a handkerchief she’d pulled out of one of her pockets.

Surprisingly, the Trio was able to find an empty compartment - Ginny had wandered off to find her own friends - and the conversation between the group soon turned to the thoughts that had been plaguing Hermione all summer.

“...how are you holding up, Harry?” Hermione posed, absently petting Crookshanks as he purred happily in her lap.

“I’m done with the Dursley’s at least.” He finally replied a moment later, his eyes dry but there was something lingering in the emerald orbs that had Hermione narrowing her eyes slightly.

_Oh yes, definitely trouble._

“I’ve been owling back and forth with Dumbledore all summer. It turns out that the locket we found a few months back wasn’t the real thing. Someone had switched it.”

“So you went through all of that for nothing?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed further at that, another piece of the puzzle they’d been working on developing yet another curve that didn’t fit in anywhere else.

“I wouldn’t say nothing…” Harry started to reply, though he was cut off from saying anything further by the arrival of the Sweets Cart, and by the time he and Ron had loaded up, the moment to press on had passed, and the boys began a lively discussion on Quidditch that had Hermione rolling her eyes and turning her attention to one of her Arithmancy texts.

By the time the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station, the storm that had been threatening all day had finally broken, and with the exception of the First Years who were led towards the boats by a soaking wet Hagrid, everyone began making a mad dash towards the carriages, casting drying and warming spells on themselves once safely ensconced inside.

It wasn’t long before they all arrived at the Castle, passing by a huddled and shivering group of First Years who were being dried and warmed by Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick while everyone else filed past to enter the Great Hall.

It was upon entering that everyone realized things had gone a bit wonky.

There, stretched out from one end to the other, were not four House tables, but five, the fifth one having just a simple black banner hanging overhead with no indication as to what it’s purpose was.

Murmurs soon broke out among the students as they took their seats at their usual tables, the conversations obviously revolving around the newest addition, though before anyone could start posing any serious theories as to its purpose, they were silenced when Dumbledore rose to his feet and approached his podium, clearing his throat once before he quietly began to speak.

“Welcome, welcome, students. While normally this is the part of the night where we bring in the First Years and begin the Sorting Ceremony, this year, we must conduct business a bit differently. By now, I am sure that you all have noticed the presence of the fifth table here in the Great Hall. While I’m sure there are those among you who are under the belief that we are perhaps playing host to another school this year, rest assured that this is not the case.”

Dumbledore heaved a sigh then before coming out from around his podium and standing before it, his hands loosely clasped in front of him as he cast his eyes out over the assembled, seemingly giving each and every student a careful and pointed glance before moving on to the next.

“It has never been publicly made known that the four founders of Hogwarts were actually not the only ones. A fifth - largely silent - partner was also responsible for its creation, though Isadora Avila never wanted her name to always be associated with the school. Instead, it was agreed upon by all parties that her name - and indeed, her House - would only appear during times of great strife in the Wizarding World. I need not remind you of the many perils that may be looming on the horizon, my children.”

He paused again then before turning his gaze towards the entrance doors where McGonagall was leading in the first years and instructing them to line up at the back of the room before she made her way up the front and retrieved the Sorting Hat and stool.

“This year, instead of merely sorting the First Years, we must also re-sort some of the students who have already pledged their loyalty to another House. In just a moment, the Sorting Hat will begin calling out the names of previous students, and you will be asked to come forward and once more slip on the Hat. Please note that, while your name may be called, there is certainly no guarantee that you will be moving on to Avila. If you are not, you will be returned to the House from whence you came. This does not mean you are unworthy, but merely that where you are now is where you are most needed.”

Without another word, he stepped back and moved to reclaim his seat while Professor McGonagall moved forward to stand by the Hat’s side, her back seemingly stiffer than usual as everyone awaited the Hat’s first name call.

“Granger, Hermione!”

And that was when everything changed.


	2. Chapter 1: Avila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new House and a new Family... The weirdness is just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking around and coming to see what else I have in store. I hope you won't be disappointed!

“Granger, Hermione!”

Well, Hermione certainly hadn’t been expecting to hear her name called out first - or at all, to be perfectly frank - but it had been, so she rose on slightly shaky legs to head towards the front where the stool and the Hat and McGonagall were waiting.

Perhaps there was something of a blessing about the fact that the Hat was still a touch too big for her, that it still came down over her eyes and she didn’t have to look out over the stunned faces of her fellow students.

_Hmmm… Hello again Hermione Granger. My, my... How much your mind has **grown** since last I sat on your head. You’ve learned much during your years here, haven’t you?_

“I’ve certainly tried.”

_One of the brightest minds I’ve ever seen. So much potential in you still, so much room for **more**. You would’ve been a good fit for Ravenclaw, I still think that._

“And now? What do you think now?”

_Oh, you’ve far exceeded my expectations for a Gryffindor. Or for a Ravenclaw. Or any of the other Houses really. You’re better suited for something bigger, I think._

“...you mean?”

“Avila!”

There was no applause as the house name was called out, only a stunned silence as the Hat was taken back off her head, a watery smile from McGonagall as Hermione turned away and headed down to take a seat at her new table.

The banner overhead still hung solid and black, the crest not yet appearing and Hermione wondered what the House’s colors were to be.

However, no sooner had Hermione taken her seat than another name was called out, a name that sent her eyebrows straight into her hairline.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

More stunned silence filled the room as the blond rose to his feet and trudged up the stairs, and Hermione was quick to note that the Hat fell down over his eyes as well, though it did little to hide the faint scowl that seemed to be a permanent fixture on Draco’s pointed face.

It was another long moment before the Hat made any motions, though Hermione was sure it was having an intense conversation with the boy sat under it.

“Avila!”

There was a collective gasp that went up from the Slytherin table at this proclamation, and a fair amount of muted chattering rose up from the other tables as well, lingering about the room even after Draco had moved to plop down across from Hermione with a cursory nod.

Other names were called, names Hermione knew and didn’t know - hearing Harry’s name called helped, hearing him being returned to Gryffindor hurt, though at least she knew he still had Ron - but then, another friendly name was called.

“Weasley, Ginerva!”

And then a moment later-

“Avila!”

Good, a friend, and apparently the last of the Avila students, since then the First Years were being called, and four more students were to join the table. All in all, there were four representatives for years First through Sixth for Avila, plus Hermione and Draco representing the Seventh Years, for a grand total of twenty six students. Fourteen girls and twelve boys.

They seemed so _small_ compared to the other Houses.

However, as McGonagall started to withdraw once the final first year was sorted - a James Kidd for Ravenclaw - the Hat made a low growling sound to get her attention, calling out one last decree:

“The new Head of Avila House: _Snape, Severus!_ ”

The man in question actually looked startled, though there was a short, portly fellow to his left who looked perhaps a bit pleased by the news.

Once the chatter following _that_ announcement started to die down, Dumbledore once more rose to his feet to address the group of students and faculty seated before and around him.

“Congratulations to each of you on your sortings, and welcome to our newest House members. I expect great things from each of you this year, and know that each of you will rise to the challenges that will be set forth before you.

“I do have some things to say, however, before the feast is to begin. I know we are all hungry, so I shall be brief.

“I would first like to welcome our newest faculty member, Professor Horace Slughorn, who is returning to his post of old of Potions Master and Teacher. Also, given the Sorting Hat’s last proclamation, I see it fit to return to him his previous title of Head of Slytherin House. Professor Snape has graciously accepted the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year, a role in which I have no doubt he will succeed.”

Dumbledore seemed to pointedly ignore the rumbles and grumbles those two announcements made, though Hermione could hear both sides of the arguments from where she sat in the middle of the room.

“As a reminder, it is forbidden for students to enter the Dark Forest, and a strict curfew is in effect. No students are to be outside of their dormitories past nine each night or before six each morning without the written approval of a faculty member.

“Lastly, I believe it is time for us to reveal the crest and colors of our new Avila friends, don’t you?”

Dumbledore held his wand out then, giving it a slow and methodical wave before a curl of amber light flew forth, wrapping around the banners hanging from the rafters and floating about the Avila students and Hermione could see the maroon in her robes changing, draining of color…

Overhead, the image of a pale white fox seated among books and wildflowers emerged, a tube of glistening white diamonds appeared in the Points Counter, and all of the Avila student’s robes were suddenly stripped of whatever house color they’d been accented with before to be replaced by a warm ivory, their ties now an ivory with a sort of tannish-gray stripe.

Dumbledore was still speaking, though Hermione was hardly paying him any attention as she idly ran her fingers over the tie, brow furrowed a bit as she felt the melancholy from earlier start to take hold again.

The sudden appearance of food did little to distract her, though she did notice Ginny having taken a seat next to her even if the redhead was actively engaged in conversation with the First Years sitting next to her.

Ginny always had been more of the warm and welcoming sort, hadn’t she? Hermione knew her strengths, of course, but being open and affectionate with new people had certainly never been one of them.

Eventually though, the evening began to wear down and students began making their way towards their dormitories, Prefects were seen leading sleepy First Years off so they wouldn’t get lost or eaten along the way, and a haunted-looking Snape approached his new responsibilities with all the usual quiet, graceful disinterest with which he usually carried himself.

“Avila House, you are to follow me to our new dwelling. I needn’t remind you to keep up or to stay aware of your surroundings.”

Falling in line behind her new Head of House, Hermione was quiet as Snape led them outside of the Great Hall, through the lower east wing and then out past the greenhouses, going to the edge of the gardens where a large fountain sat.

The fountain in question was near-derelict with age, the centerpiece having been worn down by the weather to the point that it was hard to tell what it was originally designed to be, and a fair few of the stones were cracked and chipped. Clearly, it wasn’t a spot where one could sit and enjoy the weather while studying on a warm afternoon.

However, as they got closer to the fountain, Hermione watched as Snape pulled out a well-worn leather notebook from somewhere within his robes, opening to the first page where upon something was written.

“As I’m sure you all have come to realize by now, the presence of this fifth house is not one that any of us could have anticipated prior to its arrival.” Snape’s voice was low, careful, precise, deeply reminiscent of the voice he used while lecturing, and while it was quiet, it was supremely difficult for everyone present to ignore or miss anything that he said.

“As the Headmaster mentioned, this particular house only makes its presence known during the most tumultuous times in the Wizarding world, and those who are sorted into it are representative of the best of the best that Hogwarts has to offer. You are to be the first line of action against whatever seeks to threaten those values upon which Hogwarts has operated from its opening.”

Hermione was thinking back over all of the times she’d read _Hogwarts: A History_ wondering if she’d somehow overlooked a mention of this, ignoring the little flutter of discomfort and anxiety in her belly at how unprepared she felt for all of this.

“The Headmaster understands that much is being asked of you, that even more will be demanded of you in the weeks and months to come. I am here to serve as your support, and while many of you will perhaps find that difficult, may I remind you that I am now your Head of House. It is my responsibility to take care of you, to guide you, as if you were one of my own. As of tonight, you are.”

Hermione was distantly aware of Ginny having come up to stand next to her, of the redhead reaching out to give her hand a faint squeeze of reassurance as Snape continued, stressing the importance of keeping this House protected, of ensuring that no outsiders were let in, etcetera, etcetera.

“This book that I hold,” Snape was still speaking, his words pulling Hermione from her thoughts once more. “Is the personal journal of Isadora Avila, the founder of this House. This book is to remain in the common area at all times, and is to be made accessible to whichever member of the House needs it at any given time. Within it are her personal thoughts and feelings, yes, though there are also numerous teachings on these pages that I think each of us who now carry on her namesake could stand to learn from and remember.”

Hermione couldn’t remember a single time in which Snape had ever spoken this much before, even during his more serious lectures.

“Now, if you all will follow me once more, I believe our House awaits.”

He turned to the fountain then, bending low and - pulling his wand from his robes - casting a bright _Lumos_ so his students could see what he was doing as he tapped on one of the fountain’s stones.

This particular stone, however, didn’t seem to bear quite the same amount of age and dereliction as the others, and upon closer inspection, it became a bit more clear as to the reason why.

While the image was perhaps a touch worn, there was clearly a fox etched into the stone’s surface, and while Snape’s voice still retained that same low timbre as before, everyone could clearly hear him utter the password.

“Veni et mane.”

_Let the morning come._

The fox seemed to awaken from its slumber at having heard the password, getting up and stretching before it started to climb down the side of the fountain, though the closer to the ground it got, the more fountain there suddenly was to climb down.

Slowly, the grass and dirt fell away, revealing a stone staircase that was lowering itself, and as the new residents began to descend as well, inset sconces began to light themselves along the walls, clearly lighting the path along a long hallway.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, however, something warm and inviting, and even Snape perhaps seemed a touch eager to see what was waiting for them. At least, that was what could be surmised if his brisk pace had anything to say about it.

The opening, while small, quickly became bigger, spreading out to either side, and every person present stopped and stared in awe at the room they’d found themselves in.

Unlike any other House at Hogwarts, this particular common area was quite literally alive. A waterfall ran down the walls on either side of the entrance, myriads of vines and creeping plants climbed the rest of the walls, and there were flowers blooming from the ceiling.

The air was cool and crisp, a faint earthy smell permeating throughout, a clear reminder that they were underground, though somehow Hermione was sure she wasn’t the only one that wasn’t going to need it.

And everywhere they looked, books. Shelves of books. Piles of books. Open books, closed books, books that were half-written and books that had been annotated a countless number of times.

Hermione’s hands _itched_ to get a hold of them.

“If I am reading this correctly,” Snape murmured as he read from the book in his hands, interrupting everyone’s thoughts. “Every student, years First through Sixth, has a room to his or herself. Girls to the right of the fireplace on the far wall there, boys to the left. You may not enter another student’s room without that student being present as well. The House will not allow it. The only exceptions to this rule are myself, and our two Seventh Years, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy.”

_Why are we special?_ Hermione thought to herself, feeling her eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“Their rooms are to the left of the entrance should anyone need them in an emergency and I cannot be reached. My private office and quarters are to the right of the entrance. It is written that each of your rooms has your name on the door, and - as is standard - your personal effects are already inside and waiting for you. Now, if there are no further questions for this evening-” Snape paused a moment to see if there were any.

There weren’t.

“-you are all dismissed. I am holding a house meeting tomorrow morning during normal breakfast hours. You are all required to attend, as we will be going over my expectations for you in regards to your academic and House responsibilities. Good night.”

Of course, things were never quite that simple with Snape, and no sooner had Hermione turned her back to head towards her room, she was stopped by him calling out for her.

“Miss Granger? I would like a word with you and Mister Malfoy first. Follow me.”

And with a sigh, she followed her new Head of House and housemate into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you've read the tags, you'll've noticed that there's probably going to be some romance and whatnot to be had in later chapters. However, I haven't _fully_ determined the final pairing yet, though I will remind everyone that this a canon-divergent story. Hermione is _not_ going to end up with Ron. Apologies to anyone who was hoping for that, but it's better that you all know now.  
> To be frank, there might be a bit of a love-triangle, -square, -quadrangle thingy happening. I have a lot of ideas and ship Hermione with a lot of people. Again, just being honest and upfront. I'll have a better idea within the next few chapters I promise :)


	3. Chapter 2: Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the air is cleared a bit and expectations are introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for those of you who have stopped by and read so far! I see you, and I appreciate you. I hope you continue to enjoy reading!

More than anything, Hermione desperately wanted a moment to herself, a moment in which she could process everything that had just happened and try to come to terms with the sudden drastic course change that had just befallen her.

Alas.

“Please, have a seat, both of you,” Snape murmured as they stepped into his private office, two chairs set before his desk, of which Hermione claimed one while Draco carefully took a seat in the other.

Professor Snape, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, chose to remain in front of his desk, leaning back against it as he studied the two Seventh Years before him.

“I expect that the two of you have quite a few questions for me, of which I will be happy to answer to the best of my ability. However, there are a few things that I myself need to say before either of you begin.”

“First and foremost,” He began, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed one ankle over the other, taking on a surprisingly casual look, all things considered. “I expect the two of you to act cordially to one another. You’ve both been given a tremendous honor in being selected for this house, and while I don’t expect either of you to ever actually _like_ one another, you _will_ act professionally from this moment forward. Let the past die, seek to grow, seek to change not just your personal outlooks but the world we live in.”

He sighed, but pressed on, and Hermione spared a glance at Draco out of the corner of her eye as she listened.

“There’s no love lost between the two of you. You both know it, I know it, the whole bloody school knows it. But you’re both growing up, and are about to be asked to grow up even more.”

“Professor?” Draco quietly asked, interrupting even as he was clearly asking for clarification on that last point.

“I want to discuss a few things with you. Several things, in fact, but I think you both should be made aware of the roles in which you are about to be asked to play. They won’t be easy, but there is no way for you to refuse them. Not now.”

This time, Hermione turned her head to study Draco a bit more closely, surprised when she noticed that he was doing the same, and the two of them gave a small nod of understanding as they turned back towards Snape.

“Going forward, the two of you are to be my eyes and ears of the goings on of this House. More than that, however, you are to be my eyes and ears throughout the school. Given the differences in your backgrounds, you are each uniquely situated to hear things that I would otherwise be left unprivy to. The two of you, while we are in the privacy of this office, can be completely candid with me. I expect you to retain the facade of the student/teacher relationship outside of here, but while in the safety of this space, you may speak openly and freely with me and with each other. There are some… Truths that I believe the three of us must reveal about ourselves, however, if we are to proceed and if you are both agreeable to it.”

Hermione gave a slow nod, shifting a touch in her chair as she fought the urge to fidget, waiting until Draco gave a nod of agreement himself before she opened her mouth to speak.

“May I ask what sort of truths you’re looking for, Professor?”

“The sort that you couldn’t tell your housemates. Or your professors, or members of the Order and _certainly_ not the sort of truths that you’d tell your parents.”

Hermione couldn’t help but notice the way Draco fidgeted in his seat a bit at that last part, and she started to wonder just what sort of ‘truths’ Draco Malfoy had to hide.

“So, me telling you that Harry, Ron and I have begun researching Horcruxes is the sort of thing you’re looking for?”

Snape didn’t look surprised, but Draco’s head snapped up so quickly that Hermione was sure he’d likely just given himself whiplash.

“For starters, yes, though that information isn’t _entirely_ a surpri-.”

“Are you bloody _insane_ , Granger?” Draco interrupted, looking almost angry as he spat out at her, and Hermione recoiled a bit in her seat at the sudden outburst.

“I’ll have you know tha-”

“Do you have any idea what a Horcrux _is?_ ”

“Do **you**? Because I’ve become rather unfortunately well-versed in the subject for all that there is no longer a _single_ book in the Hogwarts library on the subject.”

“Miss Granger isn’t quite as brash as many of the members of her previous house, Draco,” Snape was quick to interject, voice still low for all that it was clear. “I believe she is the sole reason why Potter and Weasley haven’t gone off gallivanting across the English countryside yet in search for more.”

Draco shook his head. “That sort of dark magic, though… it _does things_ to you. Even if you aren’t participating in it. Just being around that darkness can taint you.”

Draco shuddered, suddenly looking a bit pale at the thought of it. And wasn’t _that_ just an unexpected thing?

“What do you know about them, Draco?” Snape asked, quietly prodding the blond for more.

“Enough to be scared of them. Mother used to tell me about… About things that could hurt your soul. When I was little, I didn’t understand them really, but as I got older, as Father started telling me more and encouraged me to start reading more, I came across a book a couple of summers ago, and there was an entire chapter dedicated to the Horcrux.”

He shuddered again, and Hermione wondered what was different about this boy now compared to just a few months ago? What had changed?

Draco had been _different_ their previous year at Hogwarts. More closed off, quieter. Hermione could almost use the word introspective.

Had he called her ‘Mudblood’ a single time?

Harry, of course, had taken it to mean that Malfoy was plotting something, that the blond was coming up with some sort of dastardly plan to destroy Hogwarts and ruin them all, but the year had ended on a more-or-less quiet note.

Over the summer, there had been reports of mysterious deaths in the Muggle papers, and Death Eater activity was certainly being reported as ‘on the rise’ according to _The Daily Prophet_ , but it was almost eerie how calm everything still was.

“...I-I know that’s how the Dark Lord made his return.” Draco finally finished after a long moment of silence, pulling Hermione from her thoughts once more.

“And what do you think of that, Draco?” Snape asked, studying his pupil closely.

“Does it matter what I think?”

“Of course it does. You’re a part of _this_ House now, Draco. This House, which is sworn to protect that which Hogwarts holds dear. And Hogwarts, by its very creed, is sworn to protect and educate all those who have shown an aptitude to be a witch or wizard, regardless of their magical heritage.”

Draco scowled, but didn’t argue.

“...I’m always going to be a Mudblood to you, aren’t I?” Hermione quietly asked, a sad sort of understanding creeping into her eyes as she looked between the two men before her gaze once more settled on Draco.

“Well, it isn’t really _fair_ is it?” Draco countered, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair again, practically pouting as he turned to glare at her.

“Here you are, a nobody, and you’re the best of our year. The best of a bloody **generation**! I come from a long line of powerful witches and wizards, one of the oldest bloodlines there is, and yet you still best m-”

“You want to talk about _fair_ , Draco Malfoy?” Hermione shot back, voice low, even. The sort of voice that Harry and Ron had long ago learned meant that she meant business.

“Let’s talk about fair, shall we? You are an entitled, _spoiled_ bully who has had everything handed to him in life on a silver platter. Magic comes easily for you. It lives in your blood and it sings in your heart. But me?” She shook her head, feeling little shocks of blue crackling through her curls as she got more and more worked up.

“-I have fought, _tooth and **nail**_ , to get where I am. I have been told, over and over and _over_ again, that I am nothing. I am a girl. A girl with dirty blood. I am tainted, a nobody. I am only worth the books that I read, never mind that magic lives, _sings_ in my blood, too. I didn’t ask for it to take up residence there, you know. I didn’t ask for it, but it came anyway. It came, and it settled in, and by everything I am, I will _not_ let some _annoying little **prick**_ like _you_ tell me that I am nothing. Not _ever_ again!”

She was on her feet, fists clenched at her side, vaguely aware of Snape staring at her with something of a hint of respect, whereas Draco looked ashamed and a bit terrified from where he was still curled up in his chair.

“You don’t _own_ magic, Malfoy. Magic owns _you_.”

There was a long moment of silence following her outburst.

And then:

“Miss Granger, I think it perhaps prudent to mention that towards the end of your previous educational year here, I reached out to Mister Malfoy about joining the Order much in the same way that you and Messers Potter and Weasley have joined.”

A beat.

“He accepted.”

It was Hermione’s turn to look ashamed then - ashamed and _thoroughly_ stunned - though as she turned to Draco to perhaps apologize, she noticed that he didn’t look all that put out by what she’d said.

“I still don’t like you, Granger. For what it’s worth.”

Hermione harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest, reclaiming her seat as Malfoy gave his rebuttal.

“You’re bossy, you’re arrogant and a goody-two-shoes. You’re the best in our Year, sure, but you don’t have to rub it in all of our faces all the time. It makes it hard for people to like you, you know.”

“I didn’t come here to win popularity contests.”

“Obviously.”

Hermione was about to give him a rude gesture, but was stopped by Snape putting up a hand to shut them both up.

“Once again, I reiterate that I would prefer if the two of you could at least _attempt_ to be cordial to one another. This petty bickering will serve you well outside of here, but here - in my office - I want you to be respectful of one another and of my time.”

There was a quiet chorus of ‘yes, Professor Snape’ as the two once more turned their attentions to him.

“Now that we’ve gotten the inevitable standoff out of the way, I think it prudent that perhaps I speak to both of you about what my expectations are for you individually going forward. Are there any objections?”

The Seventh Years shook their heads.

“Good. First and foremost, I want you all to know that the Headmaster has asked if the two of you still wish to be Head Boy and Head Girl as was asked of you earlier this summer.” He held up a hand to silence them from immediately answering, instead continuing to speak.

“I think it prudent that you sleep on your thoughts and tell me your decisions in the morning. We have much to discuss, and no one will think any less of you if you chose to give them up in lieu of what else is about to be asked of you?”

“What sort of things, Professor?” Hermione asked, voice taking on a familiar note of curiosity.

“As I mentioned previously, the two of you are to be my eyes and ears both here in this House and throughout Hogwarts. You both have friends that were left behind in your previous Houses. You have friends in _other_ Houses. You both are keenly aware of the political climate that is befalling our worlds and can help me keep an eye on things that could threaten us.”

“A-Are you asking us to be _spies_ , Professor?” Of course Hermione had more questions, and of course Draco was rolling his eyes at her from his seat to her left.

“Informants, mostly.” Snape was being honest at least, something Hermione could appreciate. “Though there will be times when you’ll have to be somewhere you don’t want to be in order to continue learning. I would recommend that you both learn some spells to help you thusly.”

_Of **course** this would be the year when I’m separated from Harry and his cloak…_

“I should also remind you both that this is the year wherein both of you will have to work on your final thesis projects. You’re both been asked to carefully consider your futures and your careers once you leave Hogwarts, and this year is the time in which you’ll need to begin your preparations. Your final thesis, in many ways, is even more important than your NEWT exams.”

Hermione had been giving this very subject thought for longer than she cared to dwell on, and if the way Draco shifted in his seat was any indication, it seemed he was feeling much the same way.

“Furthermore-” _Merlin, **now** what?_ “-there are some projects that I believe with which you both could be useful. Draco, you’ve always shown a clear aptitude for Potions, and it’s something I know we’ve discussed you pursuing in the future. If you’re still keen on the idea, I would like to discuss with the Headmaster making you my unofficial apprentice going forward.”

Draco gave a nod of agreement, looking perhaps a touch bashful about being handed such a prestigious honor as if it were nothing.

“And as I understand it, Miss Granger-” Snape was turning to address her directly, and Hermione couldn’t quite help sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. “-you’re looking to go into Ministry Work?”

Hermione sighed, pulling a slight face at the question. “Well, originally, yes.”

“But?”

“ _But…_ To be frank, sir, I don’t know if that’s really the right path for me anymore. Even last year, I spoke with Professor McGonagall a handful of times about the possibilities in a more academic field. It’s all well and good to want to change the world, but… Maybe there are other ways I can do it. Ways that are more suited to who _I_ am.”

Snape nodded, giving a low hum of thought before he continued. “And what sort of academic areas were looking to perhaps get involved in?”

“Arithmancy.”

Now that _did_ garner a reaction from both men present, though Hermione didn’t seem to be too particularly surprised by it. Her actions in Third Year regarding Divination were something of a school legend at this point, and the two disciplines each dealt with one simple idea:

Predict the future.

Arithmancy, in Hermione’s opinion, was just a bit better about it. More logical, more rooted in the tangible.

“Have you spoken with Professor Vector about this yet?” Snape asked.

“Not yet, no, sir. But I was hoping to do so soon. My first class of the year is Arithmancy, immediately following breakfast tomorrow, actually, and I was hoping to bring it up to her then.”

“Please keep me informed on how that conversation goes, Miss Granger.”

Hermione agreed, but then Draco began asking questions about their responsibilities of Head Boy and Head Girl, and it wasn’t long after Snape started detailing them that Hermione’s head started to spin.

“I-I don’t think I want to carry on that responsibility, sir.”

Snape was studying her again.

“I think I’m actually in agreement with Granger on this one, sir.”

“Will wonders never cease?” A pause. “I was quietly hoping that neither of you would continue. You both have more on your plates this year than you know, and that added responsibility could easily break you at a time when we - when _I_ \- need you to be your strongest.”

Two heads nodded in agreement before both of them got to their feet. Snape hadn’t formally dismissed them, but it did feel like the evening was drawing to a close.

“One last thing before you both go:” Snape actually smirked at their soft groans, but continued on nonetheless.

“Draco, you will find a copy of your apprenticeship requirements on your desk in your new room. Read it over carefully before you sign it. I will hold you responsible for every _letter_ of that agreement, understood?”

The blond nodded.

“And Miss Granger? When you speak to Vector tomorrow, I want you to tell her that I think you would be a good candidate to work on the Ophiuchus Strain.”

“I-I don’t understa-”

“I’m not asking you to as of yet, Miss Granger. I am merely asking you to trust me.”

Hermione gave another nod. How could she not?

“Very well. Go turn in, both of you. Try to get some sleep. I’ll expect you both to be prompt to the meeting tomorrow morning to set a good example for your Housemates.”

And with that, the pair turned and made their way towards their new bedrooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for stopping by! I hope you enjoyed what you've read so far, and I'd love to hear what you think :)


	4. Chapter 3: The Ophiuchus Strain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of classes, and it's right out of the gate, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk y'all, but I'm having fun with this. I hope you all are having as much fun reading!

Perhaps _rooms_ was a bit of an understatement.

They had their own common room, for starters. The walls on all sides were filled to bursting with books - Hermione’s hands started to itch again - aside from two desks that were inset into the walls to either side of doorways that likely led down to their bedrooms.

There was also a fireplace and in front of it sat a pair of couches that faced one another, a large, low coffee table between them.

It didn’t take long to figure out which doorway led to whose bedroom - there were little plaques over each doorway with their last names on them - and as much as Hermione wanted to explore those bookshelves to see what they offered, she was also _desperately_ ready for bed.

“Right. Well… goodnight, Granger.”

Hermione jumped slightly at the voice, but she turned to offer Malfoy a nod and a murmured goodnight, watching for a moment as he made his way towards his bedroom before she turned to make her way into hers.

The doorway, as it turned out, led to another set of stairs, and Hermione followed them down until she reached her room, a space nearly as large as the dormitories in Gryffindor had been, a giant bed with heavy black curtains tied back with cream colored ropes taking up part of the space, though - much like everywhere else in Avila - the walls were lined with books.

There was one section though, right over the desk - another one? How odd… - where the shelves were blank, and Hermione assumed that this was where her own personal library was to go.

She wanted to explore, honestly she did, but sleep was calling her, and she wasted little time in changing into her pajamas, setting her alarm and crawling into bed.

She was out almost instantly.

_She was dreaming of a music festival… Or a Quidditch match? Was it both…? There were strong arms wrapping around her waist from behind, lips pressing against the curve of her neck as they danced…_

**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**

With a startled groan Hermione awoke, throwing an arm out to turn off her alarm, knocking the offending item to the floor before flopping back over onto her back so she could stare up at the canopy overhead.

_Right… **Not** Gryffindor…_

The events of the previous evening came crashing down around her, and Hermione flung an arm over her eyes to try and block it to little avail.

“Well… Shite.”

With a sigh, she pushed herself upright and then out of bed, bracing herself for the cold wooden floors beneath her feet, but instead found that they were pleasantly warm. As she padded towards the bathroom, she found the tile floor there to be much the same way.

She hadn’t done much exploring the night before, so was a bit taken aback by the size of the bathroom she found herself in. After getting used to sharing a washing space with all those other girls over the last few years, it was nice to have just as much space entirely to herself.

She also appreciated that she had the option of either a bathtub or shower, though for time constraints settled on the latter that morning. Thankfully she’d had the foresight to braid her hair the previous morning and had left it in the plait when she’d gone to bed, so taking it out after her shower proved that it wasn’t _too_ overly unruly.

Relatively speaking.

Finishing with her morning routine relatively quickly, she made equally quick work of packing up her bag and prepping for the day ahead, and was leafing through a notebook of Arithmancy notes when she entered her and Malfoy’s common space.

“...Granger…”

She lifted her head to give him a cursory nod, returning her attention to her book as she made her way to the stairwell, having every intention of going to the morning meeting and perhaps conjuring a cuppa while she waited.

“Wait a minute, Granger, I’d… I’d like to talk to you first.”

Well, that got her attention, and she closed the notebook before turning back around to face Malfoy.

“Yes, Malfoy?”

“Listen… About last night. I probably don’t have to say this, but, what Professor Snape told you - about me… about me joining the Order - I-I don’t want you t-”

“I’m not going to say anything to anyone, Malfoy.”

He blinked at her a bit owlishly, a strange look on such pointed features. “You’re… You’re not?”

“How does it help us if I start spreading stories about you turning sides? You heard what Professor Snape told us last night: we have to learn to trust one another. We have to learn how to speak to one another, and more than that, we have to still maintain our facades with everyone outside of here.”

“...right…”

“We don’t have to like one another to be respectful of one another. Just… Knock it off with the Mudblood shit, yes?”

Draco let out a bark of surprised laughter at her swear, though nodded all the same.

“Fair enough. Though I still reserve the right to call you a goody-two-shoes outside of here.”

“Also fair,” She agreed, adjusting her bag to keep it from slipping off her arm. “That’s still very much on point with your overall image.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “...I feel like I should be offended right now. Should I be?”

“If you have to ask that question, Malfoy…”

“Shut it, Granger.” A pause. “Let’s get this meeting over with. I _hate_ these bloody things.”

Hermione didn’t understand exactly what Malfoy meant by that, but she would soon enough.

As it turned out, Snape was of the firm belief that he needed to start an open dialogue with his students from day one of each year. Let them know what his expectations of them were, but also let them know that, should they need him, he was there for them. That was his job, and by Merlin he was going to do it.

Towards the end of his opening speech, Hermione caught Draco mouthing along with the words. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard it.

It was, however, a rather beneficial thing for all of the non-Slytherins in the group, as it gave them an opportunity to ask questions and voice concerns about what it meant to be in Avila.

A fifth year, a quiet girl named Adelaide “Addy” Finch, formerly of Hufflepuff, asked some rather pertinent questions about the book that Professor Snape had been reading from the previous evening.

“Ah yes, this.” Snape waved his hands and there the book was, almost as if he’d produced it from thin air. For a man who hated “foolish wand waving” so much, he sure did love to use it.

“As I mentioned last night, this is the personal diary of Isadora Avila. She recorded many of her thoughts, her plans if you will, for what she wanted this house to be. How she wanted it to operate. I encourage each of you to take some time over the next week or so to sit down with this book and read through it.”

“But did she say anything that could be applied to current problems, Professor?” Addy asked, looking perhaps a touch nervous, though Snape had been upfront from the beginning that he wanted them to voice their opinion. “It’s one thing to talk about solving problems in the abstract, but I worry that taking those ideas, and applying them to current problems might not yield the solutions we’re hoping for.”

“And that, students, is _exactly_ the sort of thinking that I will be expecting from each of you this year. Ten points to Avila.” Snape gave Addy a small nod before actually answering the question.

“Miss Finch is absolutely correct. What’s in this journal is simply a list of ideas that we are to expand upon. Make them fit into the contemporary. Bend them, break them if we have to, but we need to expand upon everything we know today so that we will know even more tomorrow.”

There were more questions, of course, but eventually Snape had to cut them all short, informing them that they all needed to head off to their classes, as did he. There were last minute grabbings of danishes and fruits that were stuffed into bags for later, final sips of teas and coffees, and then everyone was heading outside.

Where it was raining. Wonderful.

By the time Hermione made it up to the third floor for Arithmancy, her hair was looking more like it’s usual brand of disaster, especially after she cast a drying charm on it, but thankfully she had a couple of magical hair ties on her that made it easier to pull her mane up so it hopefully wouldn’t be too much of a distraction in class.

As she scurried into class, however, she found that there were only two other students in the class with her, two Ravenclaw’s whose names she was drawing a blank on, and as of yet no sign of Professor Vector.

That, in and of itself, wasn’t exactly a shock.

Professor Septima Vector wasn’t exactly known for her time-keeping skills for all that the woman spent most of her time studying time itself. She got lost in her permutations and linear threads rather frequently, so the students had learned to wait a good five minutes or so after the official start of class time before they went searching for her in her office next door.

Chalk was scratching away at the boards surrounding the classroom, which was a largely good sign, and Hermione was about to get up and examine one when the Ravenclaw boy - _Ethan! That’s his name!_ \- got to his feet, presumably to start the search.

Just in time for Vector to slide in.

“Apologies! Apologies! You all know how I get when it comes to my numbers.” The trio smiled at her, and Vector was quick to smile back. “Now, let me have a look at you…”

That was another thing Vector was known for. She was sort of like everyone’s favorite Aunt who was just this side of weird enough to be Cool but there was a wicked glint in her silver eyes that everyone knew meant you didn’t mess with her.

She was Cool, but she was also Serious.

The students all did their greetings, quickly catching up on summer vacations and whatnot before Vector cleared her throat and conjured up a stool to set before them.

“Alright. Time to get down to business. You all know why you’re here just as surely as I do: you’re looking into careers once you graduate, and this class is somehow important for your chosen field. Which is good. Arithmancy isn’t for the faint of heart, as the three of you have learned. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding.”

The trio smiled at her again, but were also perhaps a bit curious as to where she was going with this.

“I’ve taught you everything I can at this point.” Vector held her hands out to the sides as if to demonstrate her emptiness, the look in her eyes fond if perhaps a touch melancholy. “It’s up to you now to go forth and put the skills that I’ve taught you to use. All three of you… You’re special. You’re _unique_ and as much as I would like to suggest that I know what’s in store for each of you, well…” She giggled suddenly.

“Haven’t the foggiest, loves.”

The thing about Vector, the really, truly, _great_ thing about Vector, was that she honestly didn’t care about teaching in the traditional sense. She enjoyed the nitty gritty details of the magic she was teaching and was quick to share those details. She didn’t teach how to properly pronounce something, or encourage students to be perfect.

Vector wanted her students to be imperfect, messy little witches and wizards because sometimes being imperfect was how one reached perfection. Just because one way wasn’t necessarily the _correct_ way didn’t mean you couldn’t still get the same result.

So, she spoke with each of them about what they wanted to do, but included the other students in the conversation as well. The four of them merely _talked_ for the entirety of the class, and it was both the most maddening and the most fulfilling class of Hermione Granger’s life.

Especially when it finished fifteen minutes early and Vector told them they could go ahead and leave, giving Hermione the perfect opportunity to ask her about the thing Snape had mentioned the previous evening.

“Professor? Could I speak to you privately about something? I promise to be quick.”

“Of course, Miss Granger. Please, join me in my office.”

It wasn’t until they were seated inside and Hermione had waved off a tin of biscuits that she spoke up again, perhaps a tad nervous considering she was treading completely into the unknown based entirely off of a suggestion from a man who - up until less than twenty four hours previously - hadn’t exactly been the person she’d thought of as providing good advice for former Gryffindors.

“Professor Snape and I were speaking last night, about my duties in regards to Avila-”

“Yes, I _am_ curious to hear all about that. I’m sure it’s something wild, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure if ‘wild’ is the word I’d use, to be honest, but it’s definitely something different. Anyway, he suggested that I ask you about the Ophiuchus Strain? He wanted me to tell you that he thought I would be a good candidate to work on it?”

Something flashed across those silver eyes as they locked with Hermione’s, and Hermione realized that she was pushing the boundaries of Cool into Dangerous.

But Vector was quiet for a moment, assessing the younger witch before she got to her feet and encouraged Hermione to do the same, crooking a finger at her in invitation to follow.

Opening a side door from her office, Vector led Hermione into what turned out to be a private work lab, the walls floor to ceiling blackboards, the ceiling the absolute clearest of glasses, and nothing else in sight save for a single black rolling stool.

Hermione watched as Vector moved to the center of the room, but she paused, looking back over at her shoulder before she waved Hermione closer.

“Come. I need to do some spellwork before I know for sure if you’re going to be a good candidate or not.”

Doing as she was told, Hermione came closer, though she jumped a bit when Vector reached out and took her hand in her own, not letting go as she waved her wand over Hermione’s head and began quietly muttering under her breath.

She couldn’t follow along entirely, but Hermione got the vague sense that Vector was checking her vitals - both physical and magical - and Hermione could see little blue waves rolling across her skin.

They almost looked like flames, but they definitely didn’t burn.

“Severus is a smart man.” Vector nodded, breaking the silence as she released Hermione’s hand and took a step back.

“You’re strong enough to handle it, yes. I’d like to give it to you. Do you have another class after this one?”

“Advanced Charms, yes ma’am.”

Vector frowned before shaking her head. “I’ll owl Filius. How many other classes do you have today, Granger?”

“Um. Two, ma’am. Lunch is supposed to be immediately following Charms, and then I’ve got Potions and Defense.”

“I’ll owl Filis and Slughorn then. Severus will figure it out if you’re not in class.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“The Ophiuchus Strain isn’t like any other Arithmancy problem I’ve ever encountered. I can read it’s base code, yes, but I simply don’t have the time to delve into its depths and figure out what it’s trying to say. However, it’s _powerful_ magic. So powerful, in fact, that I have to magically pass on stewardship of it to you. It’s a… Rather exhausting bit of magic to undertake, and you won’t be attending any of your other classes today.”

Hermione blinked at her professor, and then blinked again.

“I have to take on the actual ownership of it, or else it will reject me trying to decipher it?”

“Essentially, yes. Are you willing to do it?”

“...if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll have that biscuit now, Professor.”

Vector smiled, clapped her on the shoulder and found that biscuit tin again.

Hermione, it seemed, was going to need the sugar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to know what you thought!


	5. Chapter 4: The Strain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings and explanations with a magic-induced migraine. Brilliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Just a quick shout out to those of you who have read and reviewed and kudos and stayed so far! I love that you're here more than you know!!_

_”Iactabantur Ophiuchus.”_

Hermione lost track of the number of times she’d heard and recited those words over the next few hours, feeling her magic mix and mingle with Vector’s as the two of them worked on getting the Ophiuchus Strain to accept Hermione as its new steward.

Hermione had never really mixed her magic with others before, though she was aware of the concept in theory. Essentially, both witches were throwing something of themselves into the spell, those somethings melded and then worked as one to complete the spell.

Knowing that she’d probably analyze all of it to death later, Hermione tried not to focus _too_ terribly much on how Vector’s magic felt a bit wonky mixing with hers, but instead concentrated on the Ophiuchus Strain itself, letting it test her and feel her and run through her.

By the time they were finished, Hermione felt like she could sleep for a week.

But the Strain answered to her, and her alone.

“Go get some sleep, Granger.” Vector murmured, somehow still having the strength to push herself to her feet, though she did look a bit wobbly.

“I’d also recommend a headache potion. You’re going to need it when you wake up later. And avoid heavy foods for a couple of days. Your stomach might not like you too much for a bit.”

Hermione nodded and somehow managed to get to her own feet, though she felt like she was moving through treacle as she made her way back towards Avila, digging an apple out of her bag about halfway so she could eat and hopefully get enough of a sugar spike to push through.

She made it as far as the fountain before she had to take a seat, dropping her head down into her hands as a sudden wave of nausea overcame her.

There were footsteps approaching, slow and measured, but her head was starting to hurt too badly to attempt lifting.

Black boots came into view, followed by black trousers and the bottom edges of black robes.

“Did it accept you?” Snape asked, voice low, surprisingly soothing, and Hermione idly wondered if he’d experienced something like this before.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ll talk about it later once you’ve rested.”

Hermione tried nodding, but the act made her dizzy and she fought the urge to fall forward. Snape clearly saw it and moved to crouch down in front of her.

“Can you make it inside?”

“M’not sure, sir…” Her words were a bit slurred, but coherent enough to understand. If Hermione had been able to pay attention, she would’ve seen Snape dig his wand from his pocket, but instead all she felt was a sudden weightlessness as he cast a spell over her and she began floating in front of him.

Hermione really wasn’t aware of much else, just that wonderful weightlessness as Snape guided her floating body through the tunnel and into the Avila common room, keeping her going until he’d moved her into her private room and had set her down on the bed.

“Sleep, Miss Granger. It should come easily. There will be a vial of Headache Remedy on your nightstand when you awaken in a few hours. Take it, and then come see me in my office. I’d like to discuss today with you.”

She slurred something of an agreement, but was asleep before Snape had even made it back out of the room.

Completely missing his sarcastic mutter of ‘Gryffindors’.

_She was dreaming of running, feet bloody, body covered in dirt and muck, but there was a name forming in her mouth, a familiar scream being uttered in a horrifyingly wrong context._

She sat up with that scream dying in her throat, throwing the covers off of her to start cleaning off blood that wasn’t there, feeling a wave of nausea threaten to overcome her again as her head reminded her of everything she’d put herself through earlier.

Immediately bending forward and putting her head between her knees, she sucked in a deep - if shaky - breath, holding it for a moment until her head felt somewhat stable enough to attempt a lift, her hand trembling a hint as she reached out to take hold of the vial Snape had promised to leave with her.

It took her a second to will enough coordination into her fingers to be able to pop the cork and tip the contents down her throat, but there was a near-immediate sense of relief that came with it, and Hermione flopped back onto her bed for a moment as she waited for the potion to take full effect.

She still felt particularly weak, drained in a lot of ways, but there was something new floating about in her veins that she itched to let out.

The Strain, perhaps?

Hermione knew the words to let it out - it was the same two words she’d spent most of the day reciting - but somehow it felt like the Strain itself wasn’t quite ready. Like it needed her to take better care of herself before it agreed to come out and play.

Which reminded her that she had an unofficial appointment with Snape.

Getting back up and then getting cleaned up and changed into clean clothes didn’t take as long as Hermione imagined it would have, though climbing the stairs to her and Malfoy’s common room took a bit more energy than she was prepared for.

She tripped on the last step, though managed to catch herself before completely face-planting.

“...Granger?” _Bollocks._ “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Malfoy. Thank you for asking.”

“You look like shit.”

“Could be worse.” A beat, and then she tossed a half smile his way. “Could look like you.”

“Oy!”

She took another faltering step forward, heading towards the stairs up to the main common room, silently cursing her legs when she heard Malfoy get up from his desk and come to stand closer to her.

“Snape mentioned you did something stupid earlier. Do you need help?”

“I did something stupid on _his_ recommendation,” She countered, reaching out to grab a hold of the railing to start hauling herself up those damned stairs. “But I’m fine. A little weak. Nothing a sandwich won’t fix.”

“I made a copy of my notes from Charms today, if you want to look over them later.”

Hermione paused at that, looking back over her shoulder at Malfoy and noting the hints of mild concern in his gaze.

That was for her, wasn’t it?

_Weirdest. Year. Ever._

“I um… Thank you. That’s appreciated.” She gave him a nod before turning back towards the task at hand and pulling herself up another step. “Now, I’ve got a meeting with Professor Snape. I should um… I should probably get going. Don’t want to make him wait too terribly long.”

“Right. Yeah…” He scuffled back a step, scowling a touch again though Hermione wasn’t entirely sure why. “...I’ll leave the notes on your desk then. Later, Granger.”

“Thanks again, Malfoy.”

It took her a solid couple of minutes to climb the stairs, and she had to stop at the top to collect her breath, but it was only a moment or so later that found her quietly knocking on Snape’s office door.

She could hear shuffling inside, the quiet thump of feet hitting the floorboards and then the door slowly swung open to reveal a rather dressed down Professor Snape. His robes and outer jacket were gone, leaving him in a black vest over his usual white shirt. 

“Ah. You’re awake, good.” He stepped aside to motion her in, watching with a hawkish gaze as she carefully came in and took a seat in one of the chairs before his desk.

“How are you feeling?”

“Been better. I’ve never had a migraine before, sir.”

Snape paused at that before taking a quick look around the room, and a moment later he waved his wand and half the candles snuffed themselves out.

“Did you drink the entirety of the vial I left for you?”

“Yes, sir.” Hermione gave a small nod of her head as she curled up a bit more in her seat, and it was hard to hold back her surprise when a moment later Snape moved to claim the chair next to her.

“Good. It will help. You should probably eat something as well. I’ll have some soup brought up if that would be agreeable?”

Another small nod, another dizzy spell. This sucked.

“Thank you for the headache remedy, sir.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke, though in the smaller space it wasn’t hard to hear. “It did help a lot of the immediate pain, but some of it’s lingering.”

“You drained your magic quite a bit today. I spoke with Vector earlier, though, and she says you did an impressive job.” He paused, looking her over again as he wrote something down on a piece of paper and then cast it into the flames in his fireplace.

“This was your first time mixing Magicks, wasn’t it, Miss Granger?”

She gave a quiet noise of agreement, though she wasn’t surprised that he’d figured that one out so quickly. “Does it _always_ feel like that, sir?”

“Depends on how it felt, though I suppose you’re suggesting it felt… Off.”

Another nod of agreement, but Hermione was interrupted from saying anything by Snape’s flames suddenly flaring green and then a tray slid out onto the floor.

“Ah. Your dinner. Good.”

They were both quiet as he conjured up a small table to set the tray down on, and Hermione couldn’t quite help the small grin that tugged at her lips as he pulled off the lid to reveal a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a steaming pot of tea.

“Eat up. It’ll help. Do you mind if I talk while you eat?”

“No, sir, please…”

He gave a nod, quiet and watching for a moment still as she took her first bite to make sure it actually _was_ agreeable before he crossed one leg over the other and then got that lecturing look on his face.

“Mixing Magicks,” He started, voice low, and Hermione settled into her seat a bit more, idly wishing she had a way to take notes on this. “Is a much _older_ form of magic than what we regularly teach here at Hogwarts. No doubt you’ve read about it in your studies, but you are probably aware of how dangerous mixing could potentially be.

“You mentioned that Vector’s magic felt _off_ to you. Could you describe it?”

Hermione thought for a moment as she finished the bite she’d been working on, careful not to slurp her noodles, before giving a small nod.

“It was like… My magic, it’s always felt very warm. Comforting in a lot of ways. Like this soup.” _Maybe the metaphor will help?? You’re typically better at this, Hermione._ “But Professor Vector’s magic, it was like… Like someone took this soup and then added too much parsley to it. It was still chicken noodle soup, but it left a weird aftertaste.”

Snape seemed amused by the analogy, but was clearly able to follow it, giving a nod of understanding as he encouraged her to return to her meal.

“Typically, we would only mix our Magicks with someone we knew for a fact were compatible with us. Usually a loved one, someone we feel a bond of kinship with. You have something of a bond with your professors just by the very nature that we teach you and you learn from us. You have put your trust in us because it is our job to help you grow. However, your bonds with us are… More superficial. They exist because they must. It’s why things felt off with Vector. You’re not bonded enough to make the process a seamless one, one of the reasons why the transference took longer, no doubt. However, you clearly have _some_ sort of bond, because ultimately the transference _did_ work.”

Hermione was thinking again, having mostly finished her soup and was now nursing a cup of tea, nodding gently as she followed along.

“So, you’re saying that, if it were necessary for me to pass on the Strain to someone else, it would be easier to do so with someone like Harry or the Weasley’s? And downright impossible for someone like… Well, a Death Eater.”

Now it was Snape’s turn to nod. “Exactly. It’s largely impossible for us to mix Magicks with someone we have no bond with. Mixing Magicks can be, and typically _should be_ , a very intimate process. What you did with Vector today lacked the general intimacy, but still required the initial trust. You both had to open yourselves up, had to allow a free transference of thoughts and ideas. You were protected by Hogwarts, in many ways. If you had been outside of the castle walls, it would’ve been necessary to have a third person there to watch over you and make sure you were both safe during the process.”

Hermione hadn’t thought of that, but hearing it now… Well, it made sense. She wanted to know more, but felt like this was the sort of thing she needed to research on her own, especially considering some of the more intimate aspects that Snape had hinted at.

“Thank you for explaining, sir.”

“I have no doubt that you’ll want to research it further, Miss Granger, and I encourage you to do so. We don’t teach it here at Hogwarts because it’s old and it’s powerful and can easily be disastrous if used in the wrong hands. Madame Pomfrey has enough on her hands with the normal goings on at this school.”

There was an implication there that made Hermione giggle, but she tried not to put too much thought into it just yet. She’d giggle about it some more later when she was alone again in her room.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her at the giggle, though didn’t comment. “Did Vector explain to you what the Ophiuchus Strain _is_ , Miss Granger?”

She shook her head. “No, sir, but… Somehow I feel like _it_ did.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Explain, if you can.”

Hermione sighed, curling herself back up in her chair after she topped off her tea, holding it close as she tried to come up with the words she needed.

“It feels like… Like the Strain itself is alive, sir. It’s more than your standard, run-of-the-mill Arithmancy equation. It’s organic and constantly changing. I can actually _feel_ it changing inside me right now.”

It was weird to think about, that she was now playing host to a symbiotic piece of magic.

“Changing how?”

Hermione bit down on her lip at the question, shaking her head some. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s like it’s taking what it knows about me and adapting itself accordingly, working who I am into the overall computation. I’m a part of the puzzle, but it’s almost as if… As if I’m a bigger part now because I’m its host.”

“What else?”

“...its focus has shifted. Narrowed. Like… LIke it’s got a better grasp on where it’s leading to now.”

“Can you show it to me?”

“No, sir. Not yet. I don’t think it’ll come out until I’ve rested more.”

Snape nodded, sitting back in his chair as he folded his hands in his lap. He’d been leaning towards her as she spoke, taking in her words as if she were the teacher and he the student for once.

“Off of the main common room is a workspace that adapts to fit the needs of whoever is using it. I’d like to set up a time this weekend in which you can set up the space for yourself as you see fit. You’ll need it to properly begin working on the Strain, I believe.”

“It’s a prediction spell for what’s to come.” It wasn’t a question, though Snape answered it anyway.

“It’s what we all believe, yes. But we needed someone closer to Potter who could work on it. Someone who understands him more, who can make out his erratic behavior and adjust accordingly. You’ve shown a marked gift for Arithmancy, and your closeness to Potter can not be questioned.”

“...are you sure I can handle this, sir?”

“No. But I have… Faith. And sometimes that’s more important that surety, Miss Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would personally kill for for a near-immediate migraine relief. I feel like that's a thing we should be able to create with the technologies of today...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for still being here! I'd love to know what you think, and - as always - you can hit me up on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) with questions, comments, concerns, etc.


	6. Chapter Five: Sentience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an introduction of sorts is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Things got a bit crazy in RL and I had to push back this chapter a bit. It's a bit longer to hopefully make up for that!

_Faith is more important that surety…_

It seemed to be the running mantra for the next few days as Hermione regained her sense of self, as she built her energy back up and got back into the swing of being a student.

It was strange though, being in classes with people that she no longer shared a living space with. Seeing Lavender and Pavarti and knowing she’d been able to _actually_ look at herself in the mirror that morning as she fiddled with her hair. Seeing the boys and walking with them between classes, but knowing that she wouldn’t be sitting with them in Gryffindor Tower that night while she did homework and they talked about Quidditch training.

Except, being away from them, it made it easier for her to notice things.

Like the changes in Harry.

It had only been a handful of days since the start of term, and yet there was something decidedly _off_ about Harry that Hermione couldn’t put her finger on. But she knew she didn’t like it.

He had a harder time sitting still than usual, there was a crease that seemed to have taken up residence between his eyebrows, and his temper seemed to be flaring worse than usual.

It became obvious in their final Potions class of the week when Harry was slicing some mandrake root for their potion. Slughorn - a man Hermione detested from the moment he opened his mouth - had come over and suggested that perhaps Harry try slicing it a tad thinner and something flashed in Harry’s eyes…

Something angry. Red.

“You alright, mate?” Ron murmured, giving Harry a nudge and bringing him back to the present, and Hermione noted the way his hand relaxed its grip on his knife.

_Was Harry thinking about stabbing Slughorn?_

“Yeah. Fine. I know how to brew a potion, don’t you think? This wanker is treating us all like we’re stupid First Years.”

“Harry-”

“Don’t _Harry_ me, Hermione,” He hissed, turning his glare to her now, and Hermione held up a hand.

“I’m sorry, I just… He’s very different from Professor Snape. I think we can all agree on that.”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron agreed, giving Harry another nudge and a grin as he continued on a whisper. “You know Snape would’ve docked points if he’d caught you slicing mandrake like that.”

And like that, old Harry was back with a grin and a nod, and the moment was gone.

But Hermione didn’t like it.

“I don’t like it either,” Ginny agreed that evening as they sat talking over dinner, the two of them sitting close and talking in soft murmurs. “I mean, I thought things were getting better this summer, but after his birthday something went wonky.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you know how he had to go back to the Dursley’s for a bit?” Ginny waited for Hermione’s nod before continuing. “Apparently there was some sort of magic protection that he got from being there, but when he came of age this year, that protection sort of… Moved on. And I think it’s getting to him.”

“But he hated it at the Dursley’s,” Hermione countered. “Why would being free of them make him angry?”

“I don’t understand it, Hermione, I really don’t. I’m just telling you what I’ve noticed.”

Hermione gave another nod, but let the subject go, instead asking how classes were going for the redhead, a much safer subject all around.

But still, she contemplated, letting the thoughts about Harry simmer on a back burner of her brain.

But even that was interrupted when a sudden flurry of movement overhead caught everyone’s notice, all heads swiveling up as owls suddenly flooded through the overhead windows.

“Awfully late for mail to be coming through, isn’t it?” Ginny quipped, and Hermione glanced up at the teacher’s table where it was obvious that the students weren’t the only ones surprised by this sudden change.

But the birds descended, delivering their packages and letters and some even carrying evening editions of the _Prophet_ , and while Hermione wasn’t surprised that she got the latter, she was _certainly_ surprised when a large black raven sat down in front of her and dropped a letter just next to her plate.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you yet, Edgar,” She cooed, reaching out to gently stroke a finger over the bird’s head and it cawed at her before stealing a chip and flying off again.

“...whose bird is that?” Ginny asked, but Hermione was already stashing the letter in her inner robe pocket to read later.

“Oh, just a friend’s. What’s going on in the _Prophet_...?”

Ginny clearly didn’t want to let the subject go, but Hermione could ignore her without much issue, and besides, the newspaper had some actual information in it for once that could be of use.

Hermione was still thumbing through said paper as she returned to her room that evening, giving a cursory nod at Malfoy when he glanced up from his own paper, but as soon as she was in her room, she put the paper aside so she could dig her letter out.

“Viktor…”

Viktor Krum, world-renowned Quidditch player, and her boyfriend. Of sorts.

It was complicated.

She cared for Viktor a great deal, of course. He was kind to her, and patient and _really_ listened when she was talking about something. Through their letters, she’d helped him with his understanding of English, and he’d begun teaching her some things in Bulgarian.

They had a lot in common. Perhaps he was one of the biggest Quidditch stars on the planet, but he was wickedly smart, too. Once they’d found that common ground, well, it was hard _not_ to get involved with him.

But most of their relationship had been through letters. They hardly ever saw one another, and while Hermione sometimes craved more, she also enjoyed the distance. She was still young, after all, and wasn’t ready for something serious.

His letters, though… _Oh,_ his letters.

Hermione was quick to get changed out of her school clothes and into her pajamas, tucking herself up under the covers as she pulled Viktor’s letter close and _finally_ popped the wax on the seal.

Viktor’s letters were a thing of beauty. They were always long and eloquent, made longer by the fact that Viktor’s handwriting was exceedingly tiny, and the amount of words he could get onto three pieces of parchment - front and back - was often staggering.

Hermione treasured them all.

_My Dearest Hermione,_

And so the letter started with fond hopes of the letter finding her well and in good spirits, that the school year had gotten off to a good start and all of those commonalities.

It progressed into him telling her of some of his more mundane goings-on, Quidditch practice and games and whatnot, though he knew better than to tell her about those things at length.

Instead, he soon moved into speaking of how much he’d missed her, telling him how much he’d thought about her and how much he’d thought about their time spent together over the summer.

And _that_ was the reason Hermione hadn’t wanted to read this letter in the Great Hall. Her little secret...

_I dream of those days spent in Canada after my Quidditch matches. The air was cooler there, especially at night, but I think you intentionally wore your shoulders bare just so you could ask for my coat. Watching you dance in the moonlight to the music of your ‘Lilith Fair’, the way you held my hand, the way you let me kiss you, ah, but those memories, and what happened after still make my blood race._

There was a blush staining her cheeks as her version of those memories swam to the forefront of her mind, the blush increasing - as did her heartbeat - when Viktor waxed romantic about those memories in writing.

_The touch of your hand, the sweetness of your lips, the taste of you on my tongue and the feel of you surrounding me so perfectly, oh! But they are nothing compared to the sound of my name falling from your lips, dear one._

_I wish we were back there, now. I wish for many things. You most of all._

There was a bit more before Viktor signed off with a simple ‘Yours, -Viktor’, and Hermione couldn’t quite help reading over the letter a couple more times - especially the juicier bits towards the end - before she pressed a kiss to his name and folded the letter back up, carefully stowing it back in its envelope and then sending it to live with the rest of her collection of letters from Viktor in a special drawer of her trunk.

To be frank, Hermione didn’t really _know_ where this thing with Viktor was leading. But, at the end of the day, she was enjoying it. They had a lot in common and they cared for one another - did she dare use the big L word? - and she’d shared things with him that she’d never shared with anyone else.

Herself, mostly. He was her first in so many things, basically everything, and if what they said to one another in their letters was anything to go by, it felt, perhaps, like maybe he was going to be her only in a lot of those things as well.

At least, it was clear that that was what he wanted. Hermione wasn’t sure. Not completely, but a lot of that had to do with her still being in school. She wanted to graduate, wanted to start working on her career before she got involved in anything _too_ terribly serious, and Viktor was supportive of that.

She remembered on their last morning together before they had to go back to their lives, curled up under the blankets as they pressed their bare skin together, feeling that slide that was so very new but so very much theirs… She remembered him telling her that he was willing to let her go, because then he could look forward to the future and her possibly returning to him.

She’d asked what happened if she didn’t.

_”It does not matter, my Hermione. I have you for now. If I do not have you then, it is because we are both destined for others, but that does not take away from the present. Why ruin future good memories by tainting the good present?”_

And then he proved to her just how good the present could be, and there, in the darkness of her bedroom with the curtains around her bed pulled shut, Hermione reminded herself of that same goodness, falling asleep after with a soft smile and Viktor’s face in her mind’s eye.

The next morning was cloudy, gray, a good sort of Saturday to stay indoors and catch up on some reading, but as Hermione rose from her bed, it was still with the lingering thoughts of Viktor on her mind. They made her want to go outside and explore the woods, get caught up in an adventure somewhere.

But, she still had her meeting with Snape, still had responsibilities, and slacking off to go for a walk wouldn’t exactly be the smartest of ideas.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen as she advanced up the steps from her room, though she distantly remembered him saying something about Quidditch practice. While technically Avila had enough members to form its own team, it was easier for the sake of rotation purposes for anyone involved in Quidditch to stay with their former Houses if they wanted to continue.

As it stood, only Malfoy and Ginny were affected anyway, and it many ways, it made things easier for Draco in terms of staying informed about the goings on of his previous House. It also gave Ginny a chance to spend time with Ron and Harry again, and Ginny had made promises to Hermione that she would do her best to keep an eye on the latter.

As she made her way into the Common Room, Hermione took notice of Addy sitting by herself in a corner of the room, a few plants surrounding her that she was taking notes on, though the girl lifted her head as Hermione approached.

“Oh, hello, Hermione,” She murmured, her Irish lilt coming through a bit stronger with the softness of her voice. “Are you well this morning?”

Hermione nodded, “I am, yes. Thank you. And you? What are you working on?”

“I’m tending to some baby plants for Madame Pomfrey, so I couldn’t be happier. I’ve got a gift for Potions and Healing, and if things go well this semester, after the Hols Madame Pomfrey is going to let me start apprenticing with her.”

“Good for you, Addy. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with on that front, yeah?”

Addy nodded her agreement, but was already returning her attention to the baby valerian plant in front of her, singing softly to it as she spritzed it with water.

“Miss Granger?”

Hermione turned around as her name was called, immediately focusing in on Professor Snape as he emerged from his office area and made his way over to her.

“Are you feeling better rested today?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’d like to get started at once, if we can. I’ve already asked the kitchens to have lunch delivered in a few hours, so we’ll be able to work largely uninterrupted today.”

Hermione gave a nod of understanding, moving to follow Snape as he made his way towards the workspace he mentioned a few evenings previously.

The room was dark as they first stepped inside, though slowly Hermione could see lights start to grow, could feel the space around her shift and shrink and stretch as it took on the shape of what they needed it to be.

_Is this how the Room of Requirement works, then?_

It still took a long moment before the sconces were well-lit enough for them to get a look at the space that now surrounded them, and Hermione was surprised to find that it bore a striking resemblance to Vector’s private workspace off her own office, only a bit smaller, and there was a second rolling stool available as well.

Snape looked a touch disappointed as he looked around, perhaps having been expecting something more than what was present, but Hermione looked thrilled by what she was seeing. She needed to be able to move about freely, needed to be able to take out sections of the Strain and examine it up close, but still let it float and fly freely about her.

Pinning it down would only make it weak.

“Well, Vector would be pleased if she could see this.” Snape looked as bored as his voice suggested, but still he entered into the space a bit more readily, moving to toe at one of the rolling stools before turning back to look at her.

“Is it satisfactory for you, Miss Granger?”

She nodded. “I think it’s going to be perfect, actually. Should I um… Should I get started then?”

“I think it prudent, yes.”

Snape took a seat, rolling somewhat out of the way as Hermione moved more towards the center of the room and held her hands out to the sides, eyes closing as she tipped her head forward and uttered the words she’d spent the better part of a day learning.

“Iactabantur Ophiuchus.”

Hermione could feel the Strain start to flow through her, at once both ice and lightning, lava and snow, and everything around her went dark save for the electric blue of the magic as it spilled from her eyes and shot out of her fingertips, swimming and pooling around her ankles until all of it had been released and then it floated up as a singular, dense orb to come level with her heart.

She could distantly hear Snape utter a swear in surprise, and though her eyes opened to turn towards him, everything around her was still dark save for the orb in front of her, and the vague outline of Snape.

No, not Snape himself, but his magical aura. He looked… _Bigger_ somehow, with it surrounding him.

She could hear a voice calling to her, calling her name, asking if she could hear them, and slowly she started to come back to herself, the room taking shape again.

Snape swam into view next, a marked note of concern on his pale features, and he was close enough to her now that he was nearly touching the orb. It didn’t seem to mind.

“...are you alright, Miss Granger?”

She gave a small nod, lifting a hand to her head to rub at her temple, but the pain passed almost as quickly as it had started. “It’ll get easier the more I do that.”

Snape frowned, but saved comment for once, instead taking a step back to once more claim his stool before waving his hand at her as an invitation to proceed.

Hermione’s gaze returned to the orb floating before her, her hand lifting to almost cradle it in her palm, but no sooner had her skin brushed against it than the orb shot away, suddenly expanding until it was something nearly as big in diameter as she was tall.

She could hear Snape swearing again, both of them moving until they could get closer, could see the individual lines of the strain twist and bend and glide around one another, and this time when Hermione reached out towards it, a tendril drifted out to wrap around her wrist.

Little blue flames danced up her arm from where that tendril touched her, but it felt more like a reassuring caress than anything else.

_’I’m here’_ It was saying, comforting her. _’I’m here for **you** , now.’_

“...this is incredible…”

“Can you read any of it, Miss Granger?”

She nodded, using her free hand to brush her fingers along the tendril, returning the caress, smiling as it squeezed her wrist and then withdrew to return to the rest of the orb.

“It’s definitely thinking about what’s to come. I can, well, _feel_ that some parts of it are set in stone. Like here-” She pointed to a section towards the bottom that was spinning in a lazy circle, not interacting at all with anything else around it. “-this bit. I think this is something that’s already happened that’s determined parts of the path we’re on. I’d need more time to study to know for sure what it’s referencing, but I know we can’t change things now that are solid.”

Snape glanced at the section Hermione was pointing to, clearly studying it before he gave a small nod and then returned his attention elsewhere.

While Hermione had been watching the strain itself, she spared a glance at her professor, looking at him through the magic that separated them, and noticed the way certain lines seemed to fit him, idly wondering if those pieces were about him.

_How many people does this thing reference, I wonder…_

“You described it previously as something sentient.”

“I still maintain that argument, yes sir.” Hermione was nodding again, her focus shifting as she watched a line glow brighter for a second and then suddenly change direction from where it had been heading, moving to slide along parallel to another string of numbers.

“It’s just as aware of me as I am of it, but I also think it’s aware of others. Looking at it, right now, and seeing you standing on the other side, it’s almost like I can make out the bits that might be about you.”

“Can you?”

Hermione gave a careful shrug, pulling her wand out and making a movement she didn’t entirely understand, but it was clearly the one she was meant to make as the bits that had been outlining Snape swam over to her and carefully moved away from the overall orb.

“These bits here… It was like they were tracing your aura as I was looking at you, sir. Even now, away from the rest of the magic, they still look as though they’re attracted to your magic. A kinship of sorts.”

Snape stepped closer, peering at the bits for a long moment, but he shook his head and then stepped back again. “This has never been my strong suit, so I’m afraid I will have to take your word on this, Miss Granger. However, it’s not a difficult leap to suggest that I might be individually called out by this magic. I’m sure with time you will be able to figure out where more and more of us lie within it?”

Hermione nodded before letting the outliers go, watching as they floated back over to rejoin the orb.

“...may I ask you a question, professor?”

“I daresay I’m likely unable to stop you, if history has any say in it.”

Well, that was fair enough, but, while Snape wasn’t smiling, there was a note of amusement in his eyes that Hermione was… Unsure about?

He was actually teasing her. The way McGonagall would’ve. It helped. He really was her Head of House now, wasn’t he?

“...what if I can’t? Figure it out, I mean…”

Snape tilted his head to quietly study her for a long moment, seemingly a touch surprised by the question.

“I didn’t realize that word was in your vocabulary, Miss Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to those that have read, kudosed and reviewed already! I love you all, and your continued presence means the world to me! I hope you continue to stick around. Let me know what you think?


	7. Chapter 6: Fights and Truces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does a witch handle friends fighting and misguided spells again, exactly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! I started a new job and I'm still working on balancing my time so I can write. I hope you all enjoy the chapter, regardless!

After spending most of the day working with Snape on the Strain and trying to figure out how the base code worked, Hermione was exhausted.

But also wired. She blamed the tea.

There was still a lot she didn’t know - far more than she wanted to think about - but she had an inkling of an idea about how to start looking for the base sequence of numbers that had started the Strain off.

It helped that Snape had been a little bit more forthcoming than usual with information that day, telling her that while Professor Vector had been the Strain’s previous host, she didn’t _actually_ know how it came to be in her possession. Apparently, she’d awoken the same morning that Avila had presented itself, and the Strain was a part of her.

Like Hogwarts itself had gifted it to her.

Hermione wanted to reach out to the witch in question, but knew it would have to wait another day or so. The evening was wearing on, and Hermione wasn’t entirely sure she was in the right mindset anymore to interview someone.

As she’d settled back into her rooms for the evening, she was sitting at her desk and reading a book on Arithmancy theory when a sudden shout from the common room grabbed her attention.

“Oy! Granger! You down there?”

“...just a moment, Malfoy.”

Grabbing her dressing gown and quickly tying it around her, she padded up on bare feet to the common space she shared with the blond, not really sure what to expect when she got there, but the sight that greeted her certainly wasn’t it.

For starters, Malfoy looked like a Weasley.

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the snort that erupted from her, but of course Malfoy heard it.

“...this isn’t funny, Granger.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” She giggled, not even bothering to hide her grin any longer. “This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“Yes you do.” A beat. “Will you wait there a moment while I go fetch my camera?”

“...still not funny…”

“You’re bloody _wrong_ and I love it.”

“Just… Will you help me fix it? Please? Dealing with oddly coloured hair isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse of know-how for a beauty regimine.”

“What, and you think it _is_ in mine?”

He offered a shrug. “You were in a dorm room with Lavender Brown and one of the Patil sisters. I figured you likely learned something from one of them.”

Hermione paused at that, an eyebrow arching as she studied Malfoy and realized that he actually _was_ completely serious.

“...You have a beauty regimine?”

“Of course,” He muttered, already peeling off his Quidditch practice robes before he pulled out his wand and conjured a stool to sit on. “I’m a Malfoy and a Black. I have to look put together at all times. There are rules.”

Hermione snorted at the explanation, shaking her head slightly. “Purebloods.”

“That’s racist.”

She thwapped his arm with her wand as she produced it from her pocket, holding it over his head before she cast a diagnostics spell to try and determine what had been done to him.

“So. Care to tell me what happened?”

“Run ins on the Quidditch pitch. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary.” Draco sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he pouted, his shoulders drooping into a small slouch as Hermione continued to work.

“Run ins with who, exactly?”

“Gryffindors. Slytherin had booked the pitch until noon, but the Gryffindors came early and were trying to boot us off the field. Words were said, a few hexes were thrown… Nothing all that unusual.”

Hermione frowned, figuring she’d hear Ginny’s side of the story soon enough. “Who threw _this_ spell at you?”

“Not sure. To be honest, I never bothered learning most of your lots names.”

“Oy!” She smacked him again with her wand, just hard enough for it to sting, and while Malfoy did respond with an ‘ow’ he was laughing a bit at the same time.

“Oh, come on, Granger. Like you know the names of every Slytherin student on these grounds.”

“I probably know more Slytherins than you know Gryffindors.” It was her turn to cross her arms over her chest, giving him a bit of a chilly look. “I spent most of the last six years being called foul things by most of them. Thought it best to learn the names of my so-called ‘superiors’, just to be safe.”

Draco actually looked contrite at that comment, curling in a bit further on himself again. The two of them were making slow progress on the road to being friends, and were in the process of jumping the hurdle of cordiality.

“...that’s fair. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, giving him another once over before letting her hands drop back to her sides.

“I’m going to need to check something before I can attempt to fix your hair. Wait here. I’ll be back in a few.”

Draco sighed but didn’t argue, and Hermione scurried away to grab a couple of books that she’d stored away in her private stash.

Granted, she hadn’t _looked_ at those books since the Yule Ball, but Malfoy didn’t need to know that.

She reappeared a long moment later, thumbing through a book and scanning a couple of passages before finding the one she was looking for.

“Ah, here we are.” She turned the book towards Malfoy so he could see the spell he’d likely been hit with as well as the one she was going to use to counteract it.

He agreed and a few short minutes later, Malfoy was back to being his usual silver-blond self. Hermione even conjured a couple of mirrors for him so he could see that she’d gotten the back as well.

Even one strand of Weasley-red hair was going to stand out in those pale locks, after all.

But he thanked her, telling her that he owed her one - Hermione sort of doubted that he’d ever pay her back for something so trivial, but she made a mental note of it regardless - and then he made his way down the stairs towards his own living quarters.

Hermione spared a moment to wonder what it looked like before shaking her head and heading back to her own rooms, plopping the book down on her desk before grabbing her book on advanced Arithmancy again and curling up in bed, tucking herself under the covers and surprisingly enough, falling asleep a short while later.

Perhaps she wasn’t as wired from the tea as she’d initially thought.

The next few weeks progressed in much the same fashion - classes during the day, studying at night, working on the Strain on the weekends - and before anyone knew it, October had arrived and Halloween was just around the corner.

Hermione got another letter from Viktor, this one asking her questions about her new House, but she didn’t immediately respond to it like she did the last one. Really, what could she tell him? She’d told him a few things in her last letter, but whatever else she was going to say pushed against the bounds of what she was _allowed_ to say.

She trusted Viktor, of course, but what if her owl was intercepted? She had to think about the bigger picture, and revealing too much could spell disaster.

Hermione was actually still pondering over it a few days later as she sat in the Great Hall just before the evening meal, idly tapping her quill against the table top as she stared at her open Arithmancy text.

Staring but certainly not reading, her eyes looking off into the distance, thinking about swirling blue lines, letting them wander over her mind’s eye and dance invisibly across her skin.

Except there was an odd tingling that came with that last part, and she looked down in time to see a stray tendril emerge from the edge of her sleeve, wrapping around her finger and giving her a gentle squeeze.

With a squeak Hermione recalled it, looking around to make sure no one had seen it and blowing out a relieved breath when she realized no one was looking at her.

_I didn’t say the words… How did it get out?_

Those were thoughts for later though, as Ginny had come into the room and was making a beeline for her.

“Ron and Harry missed Quidditch practice this afternoon.”

Hermione blinked at that, sitting up straighter as the redhead moved to sit next to her.

“What do you _mean_ they missed Quidditch practice? They were yammering away about it during Charms this afternoon. Ron was bragging about some new move that he read about in ‘Quidditch Monthly’.”

“Harry was talking about it when he walked me to History earlier as well. Made it sound like he was excited about practice.” Ginny sighed before going on. “It was something normal to look forward to. This whole year has just been so…”

Hermione nodded in understanding. Weird was probably something of an understatement at this point.

But just then, a flash of movement over by the entrance caught her eye and she turned her head in time to catch the duo in question sneaking in.

And it looked like they were both sporting rapidly-healing black eyes.

Ginny turned, noticing that something had caught Hermione’s eyes, and Hermione could tell instantly that Ginny’s rather infamous temper was about to flare.

“I’m going to kill both of them. Honestly.” She pushed herself to her feet again, turning to look over her shoulder at Hermione before continuing.

“If dinner starts before I’m back, will you save me a piece of chocolate cake?”

Honestly, how could Hermione refuse her?

By the time Ginny returned, dinner had, in fact, started, but the witch hadn’t missed much, and had plopped back down into her seat next to Hermione with a harumph before reaching for a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Honestly. Boys. They’re _completely_ maddening?”

“Did they tell you what happened then?”

“Some stupid fight between the two of them.” Ginny rolled her eyes as she grabbed a dinner roll and took a bite out of it. “Apparently they exchanged a blow a piece and then left it at that. Told me there was nothing to worry about, though they did at least apologize for missing practice. Harry said he’d try to talk to some people and see if he could get a little bit of a longer practice time slot to make up for it.”

“Do you think Madame Hooch will let him?”

“Probably not, but at least he’s making an effort.”

_Some effort. _Hermione thought, but she kept it to herself.__

__She wasn’t sure what it meant that the boys were fighting, didn’t even know what they were fighting _about_ since she wasn’t as much an active part of their lives anymore, and perhaps that stung a little bit more than she wanted to admit._ _

__She made a mental note to try and ask Ron some questions later if she got the opportunity, but changed the conversation to something a bit more mundane._ _

__As it turned out, the opportunity came far quicker than she could’ve expected, as Ron approached her that evening in the library while she was pulling a couple of books for her Charms homework._ _

__“Oy, Hermione-”_ _

__Jumping at the voice, she turned and offered Ron a small smile before motioning him closer, looking around to see if Harry was anywhere around as well._ _

__Ron clearly noticed, and shook his head. “He isn’t here. Left him in the common room with Seamus. Thought it might do us both some good to cool off a bit.”_ _

__“Yes, I heard the two of you got into a bit of a scuffle earlier.”_ _

__Ron gave a small, somewhat-nervous laugh as an answer, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck as he attempted to keep from blushing too hard._ _

__“Yeah, something like that.”_ _

__Hermione frowned. “...what was it about?”_ _

__“Really, it’s nothing-”_ _

__“The two of you fighting is never _nothing_ , Ron, and you know it. What’s going on?”_ _

__He sighed, leaning back against the bookshelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leveled a glance at his friend._ _

__“...I don’t know what’s wrong with him anymore, Hermione. He’s just been such a bloody _wanker_ lately. It’s like every little thing just sets him off and everything is always someone else’s fault. We were running a couple of minutes late to practice today because he said he couldn’t find his practice gear, and he blamed me for it.”_ _

__Hermione could feel her frown deepening, but before she could comment, Ron was continuing._ _

__“Of course I hadn’t touched his gear, but he kept blaming me and started yelling, and before I knew it we’d each thrown a punch at one another.”_ _

__“Oh, Ron…”_ _

__“I know, I know… I’m not proud of it, but it happened. We had to go to Pomfrey because neither of us knew any healing spells for it and you weren’t there to fix it.”_ _

__“I probably wouldn’t have.”_ _

__“We didn’t deserve for you to have, to be honest. But he seems a bit like himself again, since he got the anger out. I don’t know why it’s so bloody bad anymore, but at least he can occasionally release it.”_ _

__“You shouldn’t have to be his punching bag though, Ron. You know that. Whatever’s going on with him, it’s not-”_ _

__“I know,” Ron interrupted, holding a hand up to slow her down a bit. “I _know_ this isn’t like Harry. I know something else is going on, but I don’t know who to turn to about this.”_ _

__“Have you tried talking to Dumbledore?”_ _

__Ron scoffed. “We all know there’s only one student he listens to here, Hermione, and it sure as shit ain’t bloody me.”_ _

__Hermione was too busy reluctantly agreeing to chide him for his language._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tremendous thank you to all of you who have read and reviewed and kudosed so far! I see you and I appreciate you!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you want!


	8. Chapter Seven: Questions and Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to an unlikely source to try and find an answer about her Harry problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. _Y'all._ I am so completely overwhelmed by the response that I'm getting on this story! Thank you so very, very much for your continued support!

It dawned on Hermione the following Saturday that she had a rather obvious solution to her Harry problem right there in Avila with her, though approaching the person for their advice was probably going to be something of a disaster.

Not that that was _actually_ going to stop her.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Could I ask for your opinion on something?”

Snape narrowed his eyes at her slightly, seemingly off-put by the idea that she wasn’t already working on the Strain. And, given that said Strain was the entire reason the two of them were awake at a _very_ early hour on a Saturday morning, he had every right to look a tad _miffed_.

“I suppose. I can not and _will_ not promise to _give_ you my opinion, of course.”

“Of course, sir,” Hermione agreed, conjuring a couple of stools for both of them to sit on, though it took her a moment before she actually took a seat, both of her hands clenching onto the hems of her sleeves as she tried to figure out where to begin.

“...it’s about Harry, sir.”

Surprisingly, Snape didn’t outright refuse, though there was a clear look in his eyes that very much spoke of his desire to do so, and Hermione really couldn’t find it in herself to blame him.

“...proceed…”

Hermione nodded, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip for a second as she continued to think about the words she wanted to use, and surprisingly, Snape gave her the time to do so.

“I-I think there’s something wrong with him, Professor.”

His eyes narrowed slightly again at that. “You will need to be a touch more specific, Miss Granger, as I am not exactly up to snuff about what constitutes as ‘normal’ for Potter.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Hermione conceded. “I just… He’s been acting oddly since the start of term. Ginny said it started just aft-”

“Odd in what way?”

“Quicker to anger, sir. Harry… Harry hasn’t always been the best at controlling his emotions. I’m sure that doesn’t come as a surprise to you, but it’s true. I know he tries, but given everything he’s been through in life, it isn’t exactly a wonder that he isn’t a perfect example of mental health.”

Heaving a sigh before pressing on, Hermione reached up to tug absently on a stray curl that had fallen out of her braid, still chewing a bit on her lip as she continued.

“But he truly is _different_ now, sir. I-I know there’s no love lost between the two of you. I may not understand the reasoning, nor do I wish to know it as it’s no business of mine, but you’re… You’re the only person I know who might be able to point me in a direction that makes sense so I can help him, sir.”

Snape had leaned in a bit closer to her as she spoke, and while Hermione didn’t recognize the emotion in his dark eyes, she _could_ tell that he was studying her, making sure she wasn’t just trying to goad him for a laugh.

“...continue, Miss Granger.”

_Huh._

Hermione blinked, gave a nod, took a deep breath, and did.

“When Harry’s mother died, there was a sort of… Protective magic that surrounded him, something in his blood that had to be reinforced every year, for lack of a better term. It’s why he had to stay with the Dursleys, apparently, though how Harry having to spend the first eleven years of his life sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs is helping him, I’ll never unde-”

“He did _what_?”

Hermione was thrown off by the interruption, eyes going wide as she blinked owlishly at the man across from her, and she could feel her cheeks heat up in a blush as she realized what she’d just let slip.

“H-He um… He didn’t have a room of his own, sir. Not until after he got his letter from Hogwarts. The Dursleys made him sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. He doesn’t talk about it much, sir, but they were terrible to him. He had to go back every year for the protection, but he hated it. Ron and the twins went and rescued him second year, you know. Said there were bars on his bedroom window to keep him from getting out at night.”

Snape was visibly clenching his jaw so hard that it was a wonder his teeth weren’t cracking, but he made a gesture with his hand to encourage her to continue.

Hermione wasn’t sure what it meant, but she continued all the same.

“Th-the protections were only supposed to last until Harry came of age this year. After that, since he became an adult under the eyes of Wizarding Law, he’s supposedly able to defend himself. But I-I don’t think that’s…” She trailed off, clearly losing the words, but Snape stayed silent, giving her the time to process and find them again.

“We’re all crazy, hormonal teenagers. I get it. Merlin knows how you professors deal with us day in and day out when we’re all _literally_ the definition of sociopaths, but what Harry’s going through now is different. That’s… That’s what I’m trying to get at, sir.”

Snape nodded, his jaw starting to unclench a bit. “You’re saying this anger he’s been displaying lately, this _moodiness_ is outside the norm for both Potter and the normal teenage boy?”

Hermione relaxed some, nodding in agreement with his assessment. “Yes, sir.”

“Would the black eyes that both he and Mister Weasley were sporting the other day be an example of this odd behaviour you’re describing?”

Hermione gave another nod. “Ron tried to blow it off like it was nothing, and… The two of them fight sometimes. They’ve gone weeks without talking to each other before, but they always make up in the end.” Memories of the Tri-Wizard Tournament suddenly went through her head, but she managed to keep herself from shuddering.

“You believe that perhaps they are heading down a path from which there will be no return, then?”

She gave another nod, suddenly unable to speak from the lump in her throat.

“So, why come to me, Miss Granger? As you’ve said yourself, there is no love lost between Potter and myself.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side at the question, clearly one that she’d asked herself a few times before she’d started this conversation.

“Because if anyone knows if something darker than we realize is happening to Harry, sir, it’s the person who should’ve been teaching us the defense against it from day one.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at her again, and Hermione was about to add in that she wasn’t trying to just flatter him, but he didn’t give her the opportunity.

“Did Potter ever tell you about the Occlumency lessons I was giving him during your fifth year?”

Hermione nodded. “Some, though I know he struggled with it. I know after Sirius died he… He wondered if he’d applied himself more if Sirius would still be alive.”

“How much of those struggles did he detail to you?”

Hermione could feel her eyebrows drawing together as she recalled the memory, shaking her head some as she replied. “Not many, to be honest. I always just sort of assumed that he wasn’t listening to you because he didn’t like you, and that’s why he never applied himself properly.”

“Did you ever consider it being more than that?”

“In what way, sir?”

Snape sighed as he straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to study her.

“Potter was seeing things, correct? Things that came to him in dreams. It’s how he knew of the attack on Arthur Weasley.”

Hermione nodded slowly, trying to put two and two together, but somehow she hadn’t quite gotten to four yet.

“Harry saw things through the eyes of Nagini.”

“What is it that you told me, Miss Granger, on that first night we came here to Avila?” He was pressing her for answers, but he’d clearly already arrived at the end. “The truth that you shared with me?”

Hermione frowned. “Sir?”

“Think, Granger. You’re smart enough to figure it out, and probably already have, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself.”

Hermione could taste the confusion singing in her blood, could feel something coiling inside of her, squeezing, threatening to seep out of her pores.

What had she shared with him? She’d remembered yelling at Malfoy about… But what had started tha-?

Oh. _Oh_.

“...you mean about the horcruxes, sir.”

Snape had leaned in closer again, still pressing her, trying to get it out of her.

“Say it, Miss Granger.”

“That’s why Harry needed to go back to the Dursleys. It wasn’t just protection from the outside…”

“Keep going.”

Something in her cracked, and she could feel it oozing out of her, blue tendrils of the Strain bleeding from the tips of her fingers and spilling out from her eyes with her tears as the truth made itself known.

“...but protection from what’s inside of him as well.”

“And why is that?”

She shook her head, refusing, but she understood a piece of the Strain now and she could feel it shifting and morphing inside her. Could feel something else changing now that she’d admitted to herself what she’d been quietly contemplating for far too long. “You can’t know that for sure, Professor.”

“You’re right,” He admitted, but they both knew. “I can’t. But it is something that I will be speaking with the Headmaster about. Among other things.”

There was a flash of something dangerous in his eyes, something Hermione didn’t want to think about, but she wondered if it had to do with his reaction to hearing about Harry’s early life at the Dursleys.

“...do you really think he’s a Horcru-”

She was cut off from saying anything further, though, by the sound of someone calling out for Professor Snape from the common room.

A female. A friend.

Ginny?

Hermione and Snape were on their feet in an instant, rushing towards the screaming, though Snape got to the crying redhead first, holding out a steadying hand to rest on her shoulder as he addressed her.

“Calm down, Miss Weasley, please, and tell me wha-”

“Harry and Ron are _gone_ , sir! They’ve left Hogwarts!”

Snape turned back to look at Hermione, who turned back to look at the Strain just before Ginny flung herself into her arms, the equation floating freely about in the space she and the professor had just been occupying.

It was burning a fiery red, things changing and morphing throughout as it recalculated and replotted based on the information they’d just learned.

_What have you done, Harry? Where did you **go?**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _***dramatic reverb*** _
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you feel the need to yell at me on more than one platform ;)


	9. Chapter 8: A Multitude of Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a conversation or two about Harry and Ron's sudden disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in this chapter! For some reason this one threw me for a bit of a loop. Hopefully the next ones won't.

Hermione did her best to console Ginny for as long as she could, but she had to admit that it wasn’t the sort of thing she was naturally very good at.

It helped, however, that she was in need of a bit of comfort herself after hearing Ginny’s revelation. Perhaps that was why Snape led them off to his office, allowing them some privacy while also being close by in case they needed him.

After a few minutes, Hermione quietly tried to get a bit more information out of Ginny.

“How did you even find out-”

“Seamus. He said he woke up this morning, and they weren’t there, but he knew it was too early for them to be at Quidditch practice. Thought maybe they were at breakfast, but they weren’t there either.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side in confusion. “But how did Seamus-”

“Ron left a letter for me. It was delivered at the end of breakfast. I’d gone to get something quick before practice, and the owl was waiting for me.”

Ginny shifted about in her seat some then, digging around in one of the inner pockets of her robes and pulling out the letter in question a moment later, handing it off to Hermione who made quick work of reading the contents.

_Ginny,_

_I’m sorry. I can’t fully explain what’s happening yet, but I need to get Harry away from this place for a bit. Tell Hermione to expect an owl from me soon._

_I’m sorry.  
~Ron_

Hermione read over it a couple of times, trying to comprehend it, but feeling like she was completely missing something.

Why wouldn’t they have said something?

_Why didn’t they take me with them?_

Hermione carefully handed the letter to Snape, letting him read over it as she returned her attention to Ginny, though the redhead seemed to be withdrawing into herself a bit.

“How am I going to tell mum and dad?”

“I would prefer it you let the Headmaster and I tell your parents, Miss Weasley,” Snape murmured, his voice taking on a surprisingly empathetic tone. “Perhaps we will be able to obtain further information over the next few hours before we do so.”

It made sense, and Ginny made no effort to argue with him, merely nodding as she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

“We’ll figure it out, Ginny, I promise,” Hermione murmured, wondering what Ron was going to say in his letter to her.

Assuming she got the letter at all, of course.

Hermione lifted her gaze from where she was studying Ginny’s profile to look over at Snape, wondering what was going on behind the stony mask he was wearing.

_Oh, but to be able to read minds the way he can…_

Eventually, Ginny had calmed down enough that she wanted to leave, wanted to go to her room and be alone for a while, and Hermione gave her another hug before letting her friend leave.

Hermione stayed behind, though, wanting to speak privately with their Head of House while she had fresh thoughts still floating about in her head.

Snape seemed surprisingly pleased with her staying behind, and Hermione could only assume it was because he wanted to speak with her further.

Reclaiming the seat she’d abandoned when she’d let Ginny out, she folded herself up a bit, trying to figure out where to start with the myriad of thoughts that were bouncing around in her head.

“What are you thinking, Miss Granger?” Snape asked, moving to take a seat in the chair across from her and crossing one _long_ leg over the other as he steepled his fingers together.

It wasn’t as intimidating a look as it used to be, surprisingly.

“...why now?”

“Why now, indeed.” Snape pressed. “Again, what are you thinking, Miss Granger?”

She shook her head, but she was answering the question because how could she not?

“We had spoken briefly before… Well, before the end of last year, about making plans for hunting Horcruxes: how we were going to track them down, how we were going to get and destroy them, that sort of thing.”

She sighed, lifting a hand to idly tug on a curl, feeling the hair twirl around her fingers as she tried her best to keep from messing with it too much. She didn’t need more frizz than normal.

“One of the things we talked about was going on the run if it came down to that. Finding a place out in a forest somewhere where we could set up a camp and do our research from there, away from prying eyes and ears. I’ve learned all the spells to help keep us undetected, but I didn’t think we were actually going to need it yet.”

Snape, to his credit, looked mildly impressed by the information, and Hermione felt a little swell of pride in that knowledge.

“Do either of your compatriots know these spells, Miss Granger?”

She gave a small nod, “I’d taught both of them how to cast them, though Ron was much better at it than Harry. Harry’s not bad with the defensive stuff, but Ron has always been stronger with offensive.”

“Yes, I _do_ remember your First Year when Mister Weasley so adeptly conquered the Wizard’s Chess task.”

Hermione nodded, blushing slightly. “Ron’s actually quite smart, he just doesn’t apply himself as well as he should. He does better with things that hold his interest, but finding those things is sometimes difficult.”

“I am not doubting that, Miss Granger,” Snape quietly agreed, lifting a hand to idly tap his fingers against his lips. “As I mentioned, I remember that Wizard’s Chess game he played. It showed remarkable promise for a child of his age to be able to conquer it. Given the proper training, I have no doubt that Mister Weasley would be quite a proficient tactician.”

That was… Surprisingly high praise, and the shock must’ve shown on Hermione’s face given how Snape continued.

“I imagine you are smart enough to know why I act the way I do, Miss Granger? That there is more to me beyond what you see outside of these four walls? I am aware of my bias against those of your former House, but you must surely understand why I must… Play up that bias, as it were?”

Slowly, Hermione nodded, chewing nervously on her lower lip before she replied.

“...you needed to maintain your role in order to ensure you were protected in the event that He Who Must Not Be Named returned.”

“...ten points to Avila, Miss Granger. Now, go get some rest. I need to contact the Headmaster about Miss Weasley’s news.”

Hermione nodded, slowly rising to her feet and heading out of Snape’s office, feeling sluggish as she descended the stairs to the common room, but by the time she’d made it back to her bedroom, she felt strangely energized, jittery even, and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get her mind to rest.

She tried reading, tried doing homework, tried meditation, tried writing to Viktor, but nothing worked, and after a couple of hours she’d gotten back up, heading towards the kitchen area just off the common room in search of some tea.

Settling down into one of the couches with a cup of chamomile and honey, she noticed the Avila Journal sitting on the table and she reached out to pull it towards her, running her fingers over the fox embossed into the leather cover before carefully opening it up.

Something tingled in the ends of her fingertips as she ran them over the first pages, the feeling spreading up her arm as she moved further into the book.

She could feel the Strain swirling inside of her, as if answering to a call that the journal was sending out, but… That didn’t make any sense, did it? How could a book, written _hundreds_ of years previously, have any sort of effect on-

_Oh. **OH.**_

Ideas began swirling through her head, and while she was technically still staring at the open journal in her lap, her mind was elsewhere completely, and she was completely unaware of everything happening around her.

Unaware of the Strain bleeding out of her, swirling around and through her, igniting her nerve endings and making little blue lights dance in the tight coils of her hair…

_It’s ever-growing, ever-changing… It’s taken in **all** of the past to form its current calculations. That’s why it came to Vector when it did, already fully for-_

...she smelled smoke.

Immediately, Hermione went on alert, looking around her and realizing with a fair amount of panic that her nerve endings hadn’t been the only things ignited as the Strain had worked its way through her.

“Shite!” She cried out before leaping to her feet and immediately casting a charm to kill the flames, though, as soon as she did she was surprised to notice that they hadn’t done any damage to the couch she’d been sitting on.

Likewise, she was similarly unscathed, though her hair felt a bit staticky still.

“What the _hell_ was that?” She heard a voice from behind her exclaim, a familiar male voice that up until recently she’d grown to dread hearing.

“...Arithmancy…” She replied, a bit breathless still as she turned to face Malfoy, who was looking at her with a particularly gobsmacked expression.

“Since when does Arithmancy set the furniture on fire?!”

To be fair, his concern was warranted, but Hermione really didn’t know how to address it, so instead she just sort of… Shrugged.

“It’s complicated. I don’t… I don’t entirely understand it myself, Malfoy, but I’m trying.”

He took a step closer, eyeing her a bit as he clearly struggled to find the words he wanted to say to express how he was feeling.

“...I only took a couple of years of Arithmancy, but I don’t remember ever seeing it act the way it just did, Granger.” His tone was low, careful, clearly trying to mask something, that Hermione suspected that he wasn’t quite as good at hiding himself as his father likely would’ve preferred.

“It’s not like any other equation I’ve ever seen,” She answered honestly, crossing her arms over her chest as she resisted the urge to tug at her still-staticky curls. “It’s complex and constantly changing and just when I think I have a part of it figured out, it goes and changes on me again.”

He was quiet for a moment as he tried to process it, but was still shaking his head slightly when he responded. “...you mean like the sort of thing that resulted in Weasley leaving Snape’s office crying earlier?”

Hermione felt her spine stiffen even as her eyes narrowed a touch. “What do you know about that?”

It was his turn to shrug. “Nothing, really, though I’m assuming it had something to do with Potter.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, if it were something to do with her family, the Headmaster would’ve come to collect her, wouldn’t he’ve? She left Snape’s office and went straight to her room, so I can only guess that it was something more personal.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Potter seems like the most likely of reasons, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s made her cry if memory serves.”

That brought Hermione up short. “Yo-you’ve seen her cry over him before?”

Malfoy’s features flattened, his tone turning sarcastic. “I’m a Slytherin, Granger, even if only in history. It’s sort of in my nature to pay attention to the goings on around me to determine what can and can not be useful for furthering myself. Noticing a girl crying in the bathrooms, well… Sort of right up my alley, isn’t it?”

Hermione frowned at that, but she did suppose that Malfoy had a point.

Not that she liked it.

“There’s also the matter-” Malfoy continued, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts. “-of you being up this late, brooding over a cup of tea instead of doing something mundane like your homework. You’re puzzling over something, and what makes you puzzle more than the Boy Wonder himself?”

“...I puzzle over other things.”

“Potter makes all of us a bit crazy, Granger,” Malfoy snorted. “It’s about time you joined the club.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a warm thank you to everyone who reads, who kudos, who comment. All of you mean the world to me and are the reason I keep doing what I do. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


	10. Chapter 9: Hallowe'en

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallowe'en Night and all isn't as it should be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to wait until Halloween itself to post this, but thought you all deserved an early treat. I was going for something a big spookier/mysterious in this chapter, since - you know - 'tis the season to be creepy.

It was Hallowe’en, a night that should’ve been about relaxing with her friends in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room while they told horrible ghost stories to one another and laughed over butterbeers and pumpkin juice.

Maybe she would’ve snuck a couple of sips of the Firewhiskey that Ron would’ve brought in to share, but…

Instead, she was sitting in Dumbledore’s office, waiting on the man in question to arrive so she could tell him about the letter she’d received earlier that day.

From Ron, as he’d promised, though the contents of the letter had angered her more than anything.

_Hermione,_

_I’m sorry. You’re probably going to be hearing that from me a lot for a while._  
I wanted to talk to you before we left, but things happened and I realized that the sooner I got Harry away from the castle the better.  
He’s different. I know you know that. I know you’ve seen it. There’s something wrong with him, and it only got worse after we went back to Hogwarts this year.  
He was starting to talk about voices again, Hermione. Hearing all sorts of things at night and muttering to himself a lot in his sleep. Seamus and Dean wouldn’t say anything about it, but I know they could hear it, too. Hard not to, really.  
I wish you were with us. I’ve got a couple of those books you’d mentioned, but having to read through all of them for myself isn’t as fast as you are.  
Wish I could tell you more, but it isn’t safe yet. 

_Apologize to Ginny for me again, will you?  
~Ron_

Hermione was angry - she’d already expressed that emotion, hadn’t she - but it was more than that, wasn’t it? She was hurt, _deeply_ hurt by the way Harry and Ron had gone about all of this.

They were her best friends, and they couldn’t even bother to tell her that they were leaving? Couldn’t be bothered to ask if she wanted to go with them? Didn’t they need her?

Maybe it hurt more because this was their way of saying that they didn’t. Maybe they’d gotten their full use out of her an-

“Ah, Miss Granger-” Dumbledore’s cool voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she was immediately getting to her feet and spinning around to face him.

“Headmaster, I-”

“Sit, dear girl, sit. No need to get up on my account.”

Slowly, she reclaimed her seat again, though she was sitting on the edge of it, her hands clenched tight in her fist.

“Professor Snape told me of your recent correspondence with young Mister Weasley. I wish you had come to me first, though I do understand that sometimes we seek out-”

“Actually, Headmaster-” Hermione interrupted, pulling up some of the courage she was once sorted for. “-I haven’t had _correspondence_ with Ron. He sent me a letter, but it’s not as if I have a way to respond to it. A correspondence would suggest that we’re communicating continuously.”

Some of the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes faded a bit with her words, a hint of something harder creeping into his gaze as he peered at her over his half-moon spectacles.

“You still should have come to me, Miss Granger. Harry and Mister Weasley’s disappearance has made things… Difficult. There were plans put into motion that have now been derailed by the-”

“Once again, Headmaster-” Hermione interrupted again, feeling her back stiffen a bit further at the look he leveled at her for cutting him off. Again. “-you speak as though you think I had previous knowledge about all of this. I didn’t. I didn’t know Harry and Ron were going to leave. I didn’t know about any of your plans, and I _certainly_ didn’t know that I shouldn’t’ve followed the usual chain of command when I got Ron’s letter. Going to my Head of House has always been the first step encouraged by everyone here at Hogwarts, regardless of what the problem was.”

“But, in this instan-”

“In _this instance_ , sir, why should I have done anything differently? Professor Snape is my Head of House, now. I am to trust him as I would Professor McGonagall, am I not?”

“You are failing to see my point, Miss Granger.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, sir. I see and understand the point you’re trying to make. However, I feel it prudent to point out that I have been continually following the rules that you yourself have put forth. You are the Headmaster of this school, and as such, have much more important things to do and consider than a letter that may or may not be of any real value. I took it to Professor Snape because he is better at judging these things than I am. If I had brought it directly to you, and it turned out to be nothing, I would’ve been more reluctant to bring things to you in the future.”

“You have always had the ability to-”

“I stand by my decision, sir. Why waste time that you may not have if I don’t have to? The professors here are better attuned to what may or may not count as important, and I will continue to default to them in these instances going forward unless expressly told to stop.”

Dumbledore let out a rush of air through his nose at that, the sound close to a sigh but not quite. More of a huff.

Clearly, Hermione had touched a nerve.

_Good._

“In the future, Miss Granger, any and all letters you receive from either Harry or Mister Weasley will be brought directly to me. I am asking that, henceforth, you stop using your professors as the middle-man in these instances. Do I make myself clear?”

Hermione nodded, once again taking in the hardness in Dumbledore’s usually twinkling blue eyes and wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t keep doing what she had been doing already.

“Since we have come to an understanding, Miss Granger, I believe that is all for this evening. You may return to your dormitory.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Hermione agreed, giving him a small nod before getting to her feet and making her way back out of his office, letting the stairs carry her down and into the corridor where it was clear that night had fallen.

Distantly, she could hear the rumble of a storm moving in, and she sent out silent prayers to the ether that the boys were safe and warm, wherever they were.

She’d made it almost to the grand staircase when the first loud clap of thunder sounded, a long, deep rumble that she could feel in the stones beneath her feet as she walked.

There was a prickle in the air as well, the hairs on her arms standing up even as she felt a faint crackle run up her spine.

It almost felt like she was being watched, except the eyes were all around her, seeing her from every angle, inside and out.

She shuddered, quickening her steps a fraction as she wrapped her arms around herself, making sure her wand was still handy where she’d had it tucked into the sleeve of her robes. Just in case.

There was a sudden flash of light as she passed by a stained glass window, the colors lighting up the hallway in blues and reds and an odd shaft of green, and it took everything in her power not to jump when the thunder followed a split second later.

Hermione had never been a particularly big fan of storms. She knew, logically, that there was nothing about them that should cause fear, but she’d never quite gotten over that childhood sense of terror whenever a big storm blew in. She vividly remembered cowering under the blankets in her dorm room during the first major storm of her first year, remembered whimpering into her pillow at the sounds of the wind buffeting against Gryffindor tower.

She hadn’t felt like much of a Gryffindor the following morning, but none of her dormmates had ever mentioned it, so she’d done her best to ignore it as well.

And here she was, an adult in both the Wizarding and Muggle world, still getting the heebie jeebies over a bit of thunder and lightning.

The feeling of being watched though… It wasn’t going away.

There was a low prickling sensation at the back of her neck, almost like someone was about to touch her but hadn’t just yet. Maybe it was just the empty, dark corridor behind her that was causing the feeling, but it wasn’t helped by the electricity in the air.

And, surely, that faint sound of another set of footsteps was just hers echoing off the stones around her, yes?

Another flash of lightning and this time Hermione was entirely bathed in a strange green light, the edges of her vision blurring with it as something within her shook and snapped, wisps of blue static raking up her arms from her fingertips as she fought to keep the Strain contained.

_Let me out. Let me protect you._

But she couldn’t, not now. Not here.

Hermione picked her pace up even further and wasn’t far off from running as she started making her way out through the castle grounds and towards the green houses, casting a quick Impervious to try and keep the rain off of her.

She was sliding in the mud though, could feel it sticking to her shoes and the edges of her robes.

More flashes of light, a clap of thunder that then rolled over her, leaving a ringing in her ears…

Surely it was ringing and not laughter?

She misjudged a step though, and crashed to her knees a moment later, felt the skin of her hands scrape and tear as she tried to protect herself.

The Strain came out then, surrounded her in an effort to protect her, and Hermione was entirely powerless to stop it.

It flowed through her, forming a tight ball around her, trying to soothe her by showing her things it knew. Things that it was still learning…

A vision, a dream? She was running again, but it wasn’t raining anymore.

The ground was wet beneath her feet, but it wasn’t from rain. Rain wasn’t red.

She was sliding again, calling out for someone… V… Viktor? Why was his name on her lips?

Looking back over her shoulder, she didn’t see the castle as she should, but instead saw the forest. Someone was chasing her out of it, cloaked in black robes, their face hidden behind a silver mask, wand raised and ready to cast.

She was trying to get back to the castle? But something was blocking her way, her feet were stuck in the mud, the figure from the forest was drawing closer.

Another flash of light, blinding pain-

“Miss Granger!”

She was being shaken back out of her vision, a dark figure hovering over her, blocking out the rain though she could still see it hitting against their charmed shield.

She recoiled, though the hands on her shoulders held tight, and a moment later the exceedingly concerned features of Professor Snape came into focus and she stopped struggling.

“Professor?”

“Are you injured?”

“I-I don’t-”

He nodded and another moment had pulled her to her feet, keeping her tucked up under his arm - and therefore his shield - as he helped her the rest of the way to the Avila commons.

Ginny and Draco were sitting in the common room - carving pumpkins, of all things - both of them immediately springing to their feet as they saw Snape bring Hermione in, though Snape gave them little time to inquire after her as he was already pushing her into his office, closing and locking the door behind them with a wordless spell.

A moment later, and she was in one of his chairs with a blanket around her shoulders and another across her lap while Snape was putting in a call to the kitchens for tea.

Once she was situated with a steaming cup in her hands, Snape pulled his chair closer, sitting across from her as he began running diagnostic spells.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She shook her head, doing her best to ignore the trembling in her hands as she raised the cup to her lips.

“I-I’m not sure, sir…”

“Your hand-” He murmured, reaching out to gently take hold of one, pulling it close as he assessed the damage to it.

“I think I fell.”

Snape nodded, murmuring a spell too quietly for Hermione to hear, though a moment later her hand was clean and there was a pleasant tingle setting in as the scrape started to heal. Once it had, she switched the mug to the healed hand, holding the other out to him so he could repeat the spell.

“...did you have your meeting with the Headmaster?”

“Yes, sir,” She whispered. “I think he’s a bit cross with me for not coming to him first.”

Snape let out a low huff at that, though it sounded more like a sound of amusement than the one of derision she’d gotten from the Headmaster earlier.

“Dumbledore is… Very keen on things being just so, as you have no doubt learned during your years here. You’re an observant witch, Miss Granger. You see things that many of your age do not, and you’re able to make judgements based on those observations that a fair few who are older than you could stand to learn from.”

Hermione blinked at that, albeit a touch sluggishly, feeling her cheeks heat up in a blush as she took in the praise.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No doubt you’ve come to understand that the Headmaster is… Playing a game, of sorts.”

“Like chess?”

“Yes, Miss Granger. Very much like chess, except no one knows what sort of piece they’re playing, or if all of us are pawns. Any small deviance from his _master plan_ could ruin the game entirely, but given that none of us know any of the details of said plan, it’s impossible to predict what could hurt and what could help.”

Hermione was quiet for a long moment at that, her thoughts starting to churn and fire off as quickly as the lightning was in the storm that still raged over their heads.

Snape was still running diagnostic spells over her while she thought, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he read what the spells were telling him.

“You’ve skinned up your knees as well, haven’t you?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, sir. When I fell, my knees hit first and then my hands.”

“I can heal them for you, if you’d like, Miss Granger?”

Hermione nodded again, shifting slightly in her seat so she could carefully raise up the blanket draped over her lap so Snape could get a better look at her knees.

“What made you fall, Miss Granger?” Snape murmured as he started to work, clearly trying to take her mind off of what he was doing since this particular bit of healing was already starting to hurt a bit more than healing her hands had.

“I was running,” She answered sheepishly.

“I take it you went sliding in the mud, then?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. I-I know it was foolish, but…”

Snape didn’t pause what he was doing, though he did glance back up at her, raising an eyebrow and nodding his head once as if to encourage her to continue.

“...I felt like something was coming after me, sir. I’d had this… This feeling of being _watched_ from the moment I left the Headmaster’s office, and maybe it was just my imagination, but I could’ve sworn a couple of times that I heard footsteps behind me.”

Snape’s eyebrows drew together in concentration. “Continue.”

“I can’t explain it, sir. I really can’t, but I-I was scared. _Properly_ scared, and when I got outside and started making my way here, it got worse, and I started running. I must’ve stepped wrong, because then I was falling and… And the Strain…”

“Yes, I noticed that, too,” Snape confirmed, glancing back up at her for a moment before he switched to start working on her other knee, hissing gently as he saw that it was also most of the front of her calf that had gotten scraped up as well. “Why do you think it came out?”

“It said it was trying to protect me, sir.”

“It _said_?”

Hermione nodded, “Yes, sir. It told me it could protect me, but… Then it started showing me things. Things it knew, things it was learning…”

“Such as?”

“...I think it showed me the final battle, sir.”

Snape froze at that, but Hermione pushed on before he could say anything.

“Or, perhaps a part of it? I can’t be entirely certain, but I know I was here, on the castle grounds, and someone - i-it must’ve been a Death Eater - was chasing after me from the forest. And… And the ground beneath me was slick, but it wasn’t because of rain. It was warmer, too… Almost humid. More like during the spring, o-or the first part of summer-”

“Was there anyone else with you? Do you remember seeing anyone or hearing them?”

She shook her head. “I-I don’t know, sir. I was trying to call out to someone, but I only remember sounding out the first syllable.”

“And what was that first syllable?”

“It was a ‘v’ sound.” She felt her cheeks start to heat up in a blush again. “I-I think I was calling out for Viktor, sir.”

Snape looked surprised at that. “Viktor? As in Viktor Krum? I had no idea the two of you were still friends.”

“I think we might be more than that, truth be told, sir. We’re quite fond of one another.”

“I never expected you to be the type to go after a Quidditch star, Miss Granger.”

That brought out a small giggle, though it died off in another wince and a whimper as Snape resumed healing her leg.

“...he’s a good man, and he treats me well. He’s incredibly smart, though the language barrier presents its own problems from time to time.”

“I do remember that he did well at Durmstrang. He was one of their top students. Impressive, considering his Quidditch career.”

An eyebrow arched again as Snape continued. “As much as I am sure you are loathe to do so, Miss Granger, I do suggest that you begin exploring this vision a bit more fully once you have rested and gotten a decent night’s sleep. Perhaps there is more to this vision than you know. It’s also possible that the Strain will begin showing you other things now that it has learned it can do so.”

Hermione nodded, pulling her cup back up to her lips to drain the last of the tea from it, absently noting that the tremble in her hands had stopped.

“...what if it does it again, sir? Comes out like that, I mean?”

“Get some rest, Granger. This has been… a _trying_ evening for us all.” He held his hand up to stop her from interjecting. “We’ll discuss this again once you’re better rested, and will come up with a plan for going forward then.”

Hermione gave another nod and then carefully pushed herself to her feet, pleased that at least her legs were holding her up for all that they still ached a touch, though when she went to hand the blankets back to Snape, he waved her off.

“Keep them. I imbued them with magic to help with any aches or cramping that may come about because of your fall. The spells will last through the night, though I would suggest taking a pain relief potion in the morning when you wake to help further you along.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Get some sleep, Miss Granger, and then come find me in the morning. We’ll begin our discussions again then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another heartfelt thank you to all of you who have read, reviewed and/or kudosed up until this point. I see you and I appreciate you.  
> Tell me what you think? I'd love to hear your feedback.  
> You can also come find me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined :)


	11. Chapter 10: A First Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Hallowe'en is starting to be felt, and Hermione isn't sure how what that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still here?? Brilliant!

While the thunder and lightning had subsided by the time Hermione woke the next morning, the rain itself hadn’t, and despite her best efforts her hair was still a bit damp and frizzy by the time she’d made it to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Draco and Ginny were sitting opposite of one another, pointedly not talking, though both of them turned to her with worried expressions as they saw her approaching.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Ginny asked, turning towards Hermione a bit more fully as she patted the space beside her in invitation for the older girl to sit.

“I’m fine. Took a bit of a fall is all. Professor Snape found me and helped me back to Avila so he could patch me up.”

“There are rumors, Granger,” Draco murmured, leaning a touch closer. He was scowling, taking on the usual Malfoy persona, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes as he continued speaking. “Rumors that people saw things happening to you last night that can’t be explained. Something about blue lightning _protecting_ you?”

Hermione sat up a bit straighter at that, her own eyes narrowing as if whatever she was about to say to Malfoy came from the same place it used to.

“Someone _was_ following me last night, then?”

Draco scoffed, sitting up straight again before he took a final bite of his toast and got to his feet.

“Watch yourself, Granger.”

The tone, perhaps, was scathing, but the look in his eyes was one of genuine concern, and it unsettled Hermione to see it, largely because she could hazard a couple of guesses as to what it actually meant.

Things weren’t exactly looking good for her, were they?

Ginny shifted a touch closer to her as Malfoy stalked away, glaring at the blond’s back even as her hand settled over Hermione’s.

“Do you want to talk about it, Hermione?” Ginny quietly asked, giving Hermione’s hand a squeeze before she returned to eating her breakfast.

“There’s not really all that much to talk about just yet, if we’re being honest,” She replied, giving a small shrug and ignoring the ache that was still trying to settle into her body from her fall. Snape’s blanket had done wonders, but he’d meant it when he said the spells would only last through the night.

“I’m still sort of trying to piece it all together myself. I’ve got another meeting with Professor Snape after breakfast. Hopefully the two of us can figure out something together.”

Ginny nodded at that, heaving a sigh. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, though, yeah? You looked… Well, to be honest, you looked terrible last night, Hermione. It scared me.”

Hermione nodded, staring down at her eggs for a moment before something occurred to her and she turned her head back up to stare at her friend, her voice dropping down to a conspiratorial whisper again.

“...were you and Malfoy _carving pumpkins_ together last night, or was I hallucinating things?”

Ginny sat up a touch straighter in her seat and while Hermione was certain the redhead would deny it to her dying day, she actually blushed a bit at the question.

“You were hallucinating, obviously. Why would the two of us be carving pumpkins together? That’s ridiculous.”

Hermione snorted in amusement before taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, idly wishing she had a strong cup of coffee that morning instead. Maybe she’d be able to talk Snape into ordering some from the kitchens for them…

“It’s okay if the two of you are friends, Ginny. He’s… Made a lot of changes to himself.”

“He’s still a prat,” Ginny quickly countered, though she deflated a bit as she went on, leaning a bit closer to Hermione so she could drop her voice even further. “But he’s been… _Nice_ since Harry left. Trying to be a little less Malfoy-ish.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “I think he genuinely wants to come out from under his father’s cloak. Step out of his shadow, so to speak. Why not start by making friends with people like us?”

Ginny gave a small nod of agreement of her own, looking thoughtful as she turned to finish off her breakfast and leaving Hermione to do the same.

She was actually in the middle of reading the morning edition of the _Prophet_ when Professor Snape approached her, standing just behind her until he’d gotten her attention and she’d turned to peer up at him.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“A touch sore, to be honest. I was waiting until after I’d eaten to take my pain potion.”

Snape nodded his understanding, lifting his arms up to cross them over his chest as he replied.

“Good. Once you’re feeling up to it, the Headmaster has requested that you share with him what happened last night.”

Hermione must’ve made a face at that, because there was suddenly a hint of humor in Snape’s dark eyes, though none of it showed on his face.

“I’ll be there with you, Miss Granger, never fear. I am the one who found you, after all, and I’m sure there are things I witnessed that you are completely unaware of.”

“That’s… Surprisingly reassuring, sir, thank you.”

Snape smirked. “Careful, Miss Granger, or I’ll have to remove points for your cheek.”

By the time she’d finished eating and had made her way to the Headmaster’s office, the ache in her knees had gotten far worse, and she was doing her best to hide the wince as she stepped off the revolving staircase and into Dumbledore’s office.

Snape was standing off to the side and had noticed her entrance, making his way over to her a moment later even as he dug around inside his robes for what turned out to be a vial a moment later.

“For your knees,” He explained as he handed the vial to her, arching an eyebrow when she didn’t immediately reach to take it.

_Why does Snape just **carry around** vials of pain potion?_

But she didn’t put all that much more thought into it, instead taking the vial and tilting the contents down her throat, ignoring the hint of a foul taste in favor of feeling a warmth spread through her limbs as the potion started to take effect.

“...thank you, sir. Again.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Miss Granger. The Headmaster should be here any moment.”

The man in question came gliding in a moment later, giving both Snape and Hermione cool, carefree smiles as he moved past them and towards his desk, quickly claiming his chair before he motioned with his hand for them to do the same.

Hermione reclaimed the seat she’d been in just a few hours previously, though she wasn’t sitting up quite as straight this time. She’d been nervous before, but now she just felt weary.

“You wanted to speak with me, Headmaster?”

“I understand you had a bit of a small mishap when you left my office last night, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore started, one of his hands idly tracing over his beard as he kept his eyes focused on her, and Hermione was quick to note the way they twinkled compared to the previous evening.

“I was moving too quickly in an effort to get out of the rain and slipped,” She replied, her head tilting slightly to the side. “Surely, sir, I can’t be the first student who’s made such a silly error?”

That hardness she’d seen the night before was creeping into his gaze again, and Hermione could see Snape sitting up just a touch straighter in his seat out of the corner of her eye.

“As I understand it, Miss Granger, the Ophiuchus Strain emerged from you when you fell. There are rumors already spreading about the school concerning this very matter, and yet you seem relatively carefree about the event.”

“Are you chastising me, sir?” Hermione scoffed. “The Strain was trying to protect me from what it perceived to be an outside threat. I thought I heard someone following me last night, a fear that seems to be substantiated by your statement about the rumors, and yet you’re chastising _me_?”

“Miss Grang-”

“I can control the Strain, sir, despite what seems to be an accusation countering that. I can let it out and call it back at will. Last night was a special circumstance, but clearly the Strain has formed a unique bond with me if it’s trying so desperately to protect me.”

Dumbledore was openly frowning at her the longer she went on, clearly displeased with what she was saying though, really, he shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

She might’ve been re-sorted, but she’d still spent six years as a Gryffindor.

“You agreed, Headmaster-” Snape spoke up from beside her, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. “-that Miss Granger would be a good host for the Strain. She has shown a particular strength in carrying it and weidling it, and I _do_ believe that we will begin to understand it faster now that it’s so fully connected with her.”

Dumbledore turned his frown towards Snape at that, though something else flashed across his eyes as he stared down the other man, a something that Hermione couldn’t entirely place.

Snape clearly was able to recognize it, though, if the way his own eyes narrowed a hint was any indication.

There was another conversation happening there, one she clearly wasn’t meant to be privy to, but Hermione wouldn’t have been able to translate it anyway. She didn’t have the right cipher to decrypt it.

But after a long moment of silence, Dumbledore seemingly conceded, giving Snape the slightest bow of his head before he returned his attention to Hermione.

“Be careful, Miss Granger, of how you carry yourself in the future. We don’t want more _incidents_ such as last night’s to happen, and even less so to be seen.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Hermione agreed, giving a small nod of her head as well. “Was there anything else you wanted to speak with me about, sir?”

“I think not. You may return to your business.”

She got to her feet then, not entirely surprised that Snape moved to follow her, though she was clearly confused that Dumbledore hadn’t wanted to say anything else to her.

It became a bit more apparent, however, when Snape took her by the elbow as they exited the stairwell, carefully pulling her aside even as he scanned the corridor around them for any prying eyes or ears.

And then he cast a wordless spell, one Hermione wasn’t able to ascertain by his wand movement, though she could hazard a couple of guesses as to which one he’d chosen.

“Be wary of letting your Gryffindor side take over, Miss Granger,” Snape gently chided, eyes still looking about as he spoke to her, clearly on the lookout for trouble. “And be even more wary of your surroundings going forward.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It concerns me how _little_ the Headmaster was concerned about your mentioning having been followed last night. You’re sure you heard footsteps following you?”

Hermione gave a small, careful nod. “I wasn’t at first - I thought it might’ve just been my own footsteps echoing - but the cadence was just slightly off.”

Snape nodded again. “Very well. Return to Avila, and await further instructions from me. I’d like to discuss some things with you this evening regarding what happened last night, as well as actions we may need to take going forward.”

“I understand, sir.”

He gave her a once over, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit before he pulled back, flicking his wand again and the spell that he’d cast over them faded away.

Hermione turned to move away then, pulling her robes tighter around her in preparation for heading outside, but was stopped by Snape speaking again, his voice closer to the usual one he used when outside of the privacy of his office.

“Have Mister Malfoy join us as well, Miss Granger. It occurs to me that what we need to discuss likely concerns both of you.”

Hermione frowned but nodded again. “Yes, sir. I believe he has Quidditch practice this afternoon, but I’ll see if I can catch him after he’s done.”

Snape didn’t address her further, only giving her a single raised eyebrow before stalking off, heading… Hermione could only guess where.

That feeling of being watched had returned, and Hermione desperately wished she could cast a Notice Me Not as she headed back towards Avila, the feeling lingering until she’d started the descent into the House, and only then did she let out a relieved breath.

Why was Hogwarts suddenly starting to feel less and less like home?

-

Hermione could’ve done any number of things while she waited for first Malfoy and secondly Snape to arrive again that afternoon, but as it happened, the best thing for her was to curl up in one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the fire in the common room and read.

She’d tried writing to Viktor, but that hadn’t gone as well as she would’ve liked. Mostly, she just felt frustrated, and while she could tell him as much, it was difficult to explain _why_ she felt so frustrated, and she wasn’t sure if it was even the sort of thing that _could_ be translated into writing.

She missed him, though, and she was able to write that much to him, leaving the letter open-ended for a bit so she could ruminate on what else to say to him. Maybe she’d get lucky and the words would be easier later when she wasn’t trying so hard.

So, she was reading. She’d found a book on advanced Arithmancy in the library a few days previously and was taking notes, hoping - and unfortunately failing - to learn something new that might help her in regards to the Strain.

Realistically, she probably needed to talk to Vector again, but she’d been given this assignment for a reason, and she was damn-well going to see it through.

Somehow.

She hoped.

_I’m here with you. Let me show you. I’m here **for** you._

“...how are you sentient? I don’t understand…”

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Granger,” A posh male voice quipped from the main entrance, and Hermione looked up to blink owlishly at the intruder.

“Just the first?” She quipped back, narrowing her eyes somewhat playfully at Malfoy. “What are the rest then?”

“Oh, let’s see…” He held up his hand and started ticking off each thing as he named them. “I already mentioned talking to yourself, but actually _answering_ yourself is the next step.” He turned his gaze up at her. “Have you started that part yet?”

“Sometimes it feels like I have full conversations with myself, Malfoy,” She chuckled.

“That’s pitiful, Granger, honestly. Moving on, you see things that aren’t there, like clues and mysterious signs that surely **mean something** but you can’t quite decipher them yet.”

“Are you calling me a conspiracy theorist?”

“Next - and the odds aren’t looking at all in your favor, Granger - you’re friends with Potter an-”

“Hey!”

“-really, that’s just utterly bonkers. Then, to top it all off, you’re a Gryffindor-”

“I’m a proud Avila now, so that’s points back in my favor.”

“-and the lot of you are crazier than a house elf on butterbeer.”

Hermione was smiling just a hint despite herself, a part of her wondering when Draco Malfoy - of all the bloody prats - had become a friend.

She’d thought this once, and she was definitely thinking it again: Weirdest. Year. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, to all of you who have stuck with this thing so far. It really means a lot to me.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think! Don't be shy :)
> 
> Also, you can come find me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you want!


	12. Chapter 11: Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Hallowe'en continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to see you all sticking through with me on this little adventure! <333

By the time the two of them had finished bantering and Hermione had relayed Snape’s message, it wasn’t long after Draco had gone to get changed out of his practice robes that the older wizard returned from wherever it was he’d been.

“Did you inform Mister Malfoy that I wished to speak with both of you this evening?” He asked upon seeing Hermione still curled up in her chair, her book balancing precariously on the arm in an effort to give herself more room to write.

“Yes, sir,” She confirmed with a nod. “He was just returning from Quidditch practice and wanted a change of clothes before he met with us.”

“A wise decision on his part,” Snape remarked and Hermione was able to detect the faintest wrinkle of his nose.

_Ah, teenage boys._

“I would like a few minutes to collect my thoughts first. Should he return before I have come back to fetch you, could you send word to the kitchens that we’ll be needing tea and to have dinner delivered to my office this evening?”

Hermione gave another nod. “Of course, professor.”

Draco emerged a few minutes after Snape’s departure looking much refreshed, and Hermione was quick to deliver Snape’s message to the blond.

Draco, however, seemed to want to discuss something else.

“Are you _really_ okay after last night, Granger?”

Hermione blinked at him, lips parting slightly as she tried to come up with a response to the somewhat unexpected question.

“...I’m fine, really. I-I really did just take a bit of a tumble.”

“You looked shaken when Snape brought you in, though. Like you’d been chased by something.”

“I believe-” A low voice interrupted, causing both Draco and Hermione to jump slightly as they turned towards it. “-that is what I wished to discuss with both of you privately this evening.” Snape raised a brow as he eyed both of them. “Shall we?”

Hermione made a mental note of what page she was on in her book before closing it shut and moving after the two wizards.

“Have a seat, both of you,” Snape instructed once they were ensconced in his office.

“I did as you instructed concerning dinner, professor,” Hermione offered as she took her seat, suddenly wishing for that heated blanket he’d conjured up for her the night before, though it was more about just wanting something to curl up in and less about any lingering ache.

As if on cue, a tray with a full tea service suddenly slid out of the fire, and Draco moved to claim it, making quick work of preparing a cup for each of them.

Hermione was perhaps a touch surprised that he knew how she took hers, but didn’t comment.

Once they were all settled, Snape resumed the conversation that Draco and Hermione had been having just a moment prior.

“I, too, am curious, Miss Granger, as to how you’re feeling. Draco’s concern is… a valid one.”

“Honestly, I’m okay,” She replied, taking a sip of her tea and wrapping both of her hands around the cup. “Perhaps still a little spooked by all of it, bu-”

“Spooked?” Draco interrupted. “Why?”

“Miss Granger believes she was being followed last night.”

“If she was-” Draco replied. “-no one’s mentioned it. All of the conversation on the pitch today was about the party in the Slytherin common room last night and how sad everyone was that I missed it.”

Snape sighed, muttering something under his breath about Slughorn’s incompetence before coming back to the conversation at hand.

“I’m not entirely convinced it’s a Slytherin that’s watching her, to be honest, though I’d appreciate if you could keep your ear to the ground, Draco.”

“Of course, sir. Also, I _should_ mention that there’s a rumor going around about you being surrounded by blue lightning, Hermione.”

Hermione grimaced. “Yes, you mentioned that at breakfast this morning.”

“It gives weight to your thoughts about being followed,” Snape agreed, looking pensive as he clearly thought over the matter and what it meant for all of them. “If someone was following you as you suspected, they clearly saw what happened when you fell, and have turned to others to try and sort it all out.”

“But here’s the part I don’t understand,” Hermione countered, curling up a bit more in her chair as she took another sip of her tea. “If I’m being followed - which there’s no doubt in my mind now that I am - why? Why now? What’s to be gained by following me?”

“I’m not sure I follow, Miss Granger,” Snape responded, an eyebrow arching yet again as he leaned a bit forward in his seat.

“Why me? What’s so special about me that warrants me being followed? The boys aren’t here anymore, and it’s fairly obvious that I’m not really in communication with them, so what’s so special about me?”

“You’re Hermione Granger,” Draco scoffed, uncrossing and then recrossing his legs as he looked back and forth between her and Snape. “Even without Potter and Weasley, you’re still a powerful witch. The most powerful in our year, for certain, _and_ you were the first sorted into Avila. Like it or not, Granger, but you’re still a person of interest.”

“Draco is right,” Snape agreed with a nod. “Even without your… Friends, you’re a powerful weapon for our side. I’m not surprised that you’re being watched, being followed, especially now that you’re the host to the Stra-”

“Wait, _host_?” Draco interrupted. “You’re playing host to something now, Granger? What, like a parasite?”

“Nothing quite that ominous,” Hermione replied with a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s… An extremely powerful Arithmancy equation called the Ophiuchus Strain. It’s supposed to be the equation that predic-”

“-predicts what’s to come with the War?” Draco guessed, surprising both of the other occupants in the room. “I think I’ve heard of this.”

“How is that possible?” Snape questioned, looking tense again, and Hermione could easily understand why.

Draco gave a faint shake of his head. “I’m not positive, but I remember reading something years ago… Merlin, it must’ve been back before second year. Dad had pulled some books for me ‘to further my education’ since Mum was still insistent on me not transferring to Durmstrang, and there was a spell in one of them that was supposed to grant the wielder the ability to predict the future by harnessing a rare strain of Arithmancy. I didn’t read the excerpt, but I’ll see if I can find it again when I go back home for the Hols.”

Snape still looked a touch surprised, but gave a small nod of agreement to Draco’s proposal. “See that you do, yes. And bring it back with you if you can. I know Lucious is… Often _loathe_ to let any of his personal belongings get away from the Manor, but surely you can find a good excuse?”

Draco nodded again, but seemed a touch hesitant suddenly. “It’s not just him I’m worried about though, to be honest, sir. The Lestrange’s have come to stay. Auntie Bella wants to be close to Mum, and I think there’s talk of… Others moving in as well.”

Hermione’s blood ran cold at that. She could hazard a guess as to who those ‘others’ were, but she didn’t really need to, did she? Not if the look that passed between the two men was any indication.

“Are you sure?”

“No, sir. I’ve only heard snippets of conversations, but ours is the home least likely to get raided by the Ministry at this point. They’ve been trying for years now with no luck, and it’s clear that the Ministry is running out of excuses to keep coming.”

An idea suddenly occurred to Hermione at that. “Would that mean that your father might actually be more lax then, Draco?”

“...how do you mean?”

She licked her lips to wet them before continuing, staring at Draco though not entirely seeing him as she let her thoughts tumble out. “If your father isn’t as concerned about the Ministry coming for a raid, he might not be as diligent about keeping things locked up safe. Could it actually be _easier_ for you to sneak something back here, then?”

“Doubtful,” Snape answered without hesitation, and the look on Draco’s face said that he agreed. “Lucius Malfoy is many things, but lax about his security isn’t exactly one of them. I can’t say he’d be _more_ diligent, but he’s been around long enough to know that any faltering is… Dangerous, to say the least.”

“Constant vigilance,” Hermione sighed, earning a snort from Snape.

“Lucius Malfoy,” Snape suddenly chuckled, a deep but quiet sound low in the back of his throat. “The Alastor Moody of the Dark Side.”

Both Hermione and Draco snorted at that, attempting to hide smirks behind their tea cups for all that neither of them particular succeeded.

“But in all seriousness,” Snape murmured again a moment later, returning the conversation to the topic at hand. “Anything you might be able to procure from the Manor and bring back here would be greatly appreciated, Draco. I know it’ll be difficult, but I have faith that you’re up to the task.”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco replied, a faint blush tinging his pale cheeks.

To be fair, that was awfully high praise coming from their Head of House.

“Furthermore, I want both of you to start actively being more aware of your surroundings. The incident last night is sure to be the first of many, and without having a solid idea as to who exactly might be watching us, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Also, Miss Granger,” Snape turned in his seat to address her a bit more directly. “I’d like to work with you sometime soon on figuring out a way to better hold the Strain inside of you.

Hermione nodded again in understanding.

“I understand that it was trying to protect you last night, as you’ve said as much yourself, but I… Don’t want to imagine what might’ve happened had the person following you approached you before I found you.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Have you remembered anything else about what it showed you last night?” Snape asked, voice carefully pressing, and Hermione was quick to note the confusion that tinged Malfoy’s features at that.

“No, sir. Everything is still a bit fuzzy. It hasn’t tried showing me more, nor has it tried to clarify what it’s already showed me.”

Snape nodded at that, but Malfoy just looked even more confused.

“...it’s giving you visions?”

Hermione nodded. “Something like that, yes. I-It sort of _speaks_ to me, for lack of a better term.”

“It’s sentient?”

“I suppose so, yes. It’s unlike any Arithmancy equation I’ve ever encountered before.” She turned to face Snape a bit more directly then, a question forming in her eyes before she gave it a voice.

“...should I show him, sir?”

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly at her, clearly studying her for a moment before he gave a single nod.

“Proceed.”

Hermione let out a breath before moving to sit up straight in her seat again, closing her eyes as she murmured the words that were second nature to her now, feeling her skin tingle as the Strain bled out of her, swirling around and over her for a moment before it formed in its usual spherical shape, floating a couple of feet away from her chest.

“...bloody hell…” Draco sputtered, a tired grin floating up to Hermione’s features at hearing such a familiar phrase come from what was quickly becoming a new-found friend.

“Meet the Ophiuchus Strain, Draco,” Hermione said, waving a hand between the two of them. “And the answers to all of our questions, assuming I can interpret them in time.”

Malfoy got to his feet then, moving closer to the Strain and bending over a bit to peer at its inner workings.

Much like she could with Snape, Hermione could see the tendril that referenced the blond, could see the way it twisted and turned around the others, the way it zigged and zagged throughout…

“You’re a part of it, too, you know?”

Draco blinked in surprise at that. “Am I?”

She nodded, getting to her feet and noting the way Snape did the same, his own tendrils - when had it become more than one? - shifting to sort of outline him.

“You are. I don’t know in what capacity yet, but you’re part of the equation. I think that’s another reason it’s so important for you to get that book over winter break. There’s only so much I can interpret at this point, and any outside information I can get… Well, the better off I’m hoping we’ll all be.”

“Sure thing, Granger.” Draco nodded, though it was clear that his attention was still predominantly taken up by the Strain.

Hermione really couldn’t blame him for that, either.

“Do um… Do you need me for anything else, sir?” Draco asked when he finally pulled back away a long moment later. “I’m feeling a bit beat after practice and I’m not sure how much more my head can handle with… This.” He was gesturing towards the Strain, though had finally turned his eyes away from it.

“Get some rest. I understand you’ve got a bit of work to do on your own project tomorrow?”

Draco nodded, and it wasn’t long before Snape had dismissed him and the blond was sauntering back off towards his room, leaving Hermione and Snape by themselves again.

Hermione reclaimed her seat, watching as Snape turned towards his fireplace and gave a set of instructions to the kitchens, not surprised when a moment or so later their dinner arrived, and she figured it was safe to assume that he’d instructed them to send Draco’s directly to him.

“I’ve been giving some thought to what you told me last night, Miss Granger,” Snape started, pulling her back from her thoughts. “About what you saw when the Strain was trying to protect you?”

She nodded, carefully arranging herself so she could conjure up a table at which they could eat while they continued their discussion.

“One thing still sticks out to me, and that’s your mentioning of being followed from the Forest. I’ve been giving it some thought, but would like to hear what conclusions you yourself might’ve drawn from it.”

“Well, I think part of me is wondering just how far Hogwarts protection spells reach and how common knowledge that particular bit of information is. I don’t want to assume, but I get the feeling that the spells don’t cover the entirety of the Forest?”

Snape gave a nod, though finished chewing his bite of food before answering. “You would be safe in that assumption, yes. The protective spells only extend to the edges of the forest, essentially to what is now the Centaur’s domain. Past that, and you’re on your own.”

“How common knowledge is that, sir?”

“Unfortunately, very, so it’s not a leap to think that this might be used against us. Hogsmeade is likewise not under any sort of protective spells, so we should likely begin preparing from assaults from multiple sides.”

Hermione took another bite of her food - chicken pot pie with mushrooms - chewing thoughtfully for a moment before taking a sip of her drink to wash it down so she could answer.

“It was… Strange how, in the dream, I was clearly running through mud. Like the battle had already taken place, but there was still danger around. There wasn’t any sort of clear cut ending just yet, a-and I think that the person pursuing me from the Forest was sort of the start of a fresh wave of attacks.”

“It does seem likely, yes,” Snape agreed. “The Dark Lord has been amassing troops from all over Europe, likely to prepare for just such an attack. If the final battle _is_ to take place here at Hogwarts, we will need to refortify it as quickly as possible.”

“How much would all of that entail?”

“I would need to discuss it with the Headmaster, of course, as well as Filius and Minerva, but I would imagine that the sooner we get started, the better.”

He leaned back in his seat slightly, as if to take a break from his meal, and Hermione immediately recognized the shift in tone as him going into lecturing mode, and once again she sort of wished she had a quill and some parchment handy to take notes.

“We normally refortify the castle’s defensive spells just before the start of every new school year. This year was no exception. However, certain spells must be given a boost of sorts during the winter break. Realistically, they could be done more frequently, but we don’t like casting that sort of magic over the castle when it is largely occupied as it has been known to cause… Problems amongst the inhabitants.”

“What sort of problems?”

“Usually issues with sleeping. We’ll most likely have to do as we did in your third year when the threat from Sirius Black came to us and the students will have to spend a night in the Great Hall. It’s a centralized location where we can better monitor the lot of you and make sure you’re not being adversely affected.”

“When you say issues with sleeping…”

“Night terrors, for starters. We’re not entirely sure of the cause of it, but the defensive spells seem to interfere with certain personal Magicks, particularly of younger students. It’s less likely to happen in the older students as your Magicks are more solidified, closer to being fully formed, whereas the younger children are still being shaped. The Great Hall, being so centrally located, is furthest away from the outskirts where the spells form, and therefore grant us the best location to watch over you.”

Hermione gave another nod at that, wondering - not for the first time - if she needed to start doing more research on personal Magicks, particularly given that she’d already had to mix her Magick once before.

Who was to say she wasn’t going to have to do so again?

“...sir, not to change the subject, but do you think it would be possible for you to grant me a pass to the Restricted Section?”

Snape, perhaps surprisingly, didn’t look all that shocked by her request. “Am I to guess that you want to look for texts on Magicks, then, Miss Granger?”

“For starters, yes, sir,” Hermione confirmed with a small nod, though she fell silent again as she waited for Snape to take another bite of his food.

“Permission granted. I’ll write up the pass for you in the morning, though I must, of course, caution you against misusing it.”

There was that hint of a smile again, and Hermione realized that perhaps he was teasing her.

“I’ll be sure to be careful, sir,” She answered, a hint of a teasing tone creeping into her own voice. “Wouldn’t want to ruin my innocence or anything.”

Though, if Snape was warning her, perhaps there _was_ something to mixing Magicks that she needed to be careful about studying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to know what you think! Hope you're still enjoying it!
> 
> Also, feel free to come yell at me over on my [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) :)


	13. Chapter 12: Let Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione does some research on Magicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still here! I'm super pleased to see that!!
> 
> Also, a special shoutout to Q. Hope you're ready for some more spoopy spoop friend ;)

The rain that had moved in on Hallowe’en had finally moved out again by the time Hermione got the permission slip from Snape to enter the Restricted Section, and Hermione was enjoying the opportunity to let her hair down again without risk of it turning into a frizzy mess.

Plus, the cold front that had moved in after helped with the frizz as well, and for once, her hair actually looked more like proper ringlet curls as opposed to just a mess.

It was a quiet Sunday in the library, thankfully, as students were taking the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted and were studying outside. It might’ve been cold, but warming charms were wonderful, especially if you were using them on a blanket that you were wrapped up under _with_ someone.

But Hermione wasn’t thinking about that - at least not really, not when her person of interest was in another country entirely - and was instead concentrating on getting Madame Pince to let her into the Restricted Section.

Even with her pass - which Snape was generous enough to write out for the remainder of the school year - the librarian was reluctant to open the doors and let Hermione inside.

Eventually, though, she did, and Hermione quietly thanked her before heading inside.

Harry hadn’t told them much about what he’d seen when he’d come into this section back in their first year, so Hermione wasn’t entirely prepared for how, well, _normal_ it looked.

She’d been expecting something dark and dreary, but realistically it was no different than the rest of the library.

What _was_ different, however, was the feel of the books themselves, and Hermione noted that certain sections seemed colder while still others seemed far warmer, as if the books themselves were giving off the varying temperatures.

Maybe they were. Who was to say for certain?

Eventually though, after quite a bit of searching, she managed to find the section she was looking for: a shelf on the very bottom that was only partially filled with books, but the entirety of which were books on personal Magicks.

Snape had given her a small list of books along with her pass to consider checking into first, but Hermione was nothing if not an overachiever, and it wasn’t long before she’d grabbed the entire stack and had it on a table in a corner window nook.

Grabbing the book closest to her, she carefully opened the cover after reading the title - _Weird Emotional Sorcery: A Practical Handbook of Forgotten Magicks_ \- and pulled it close, looking over the table of contents before diving right into it and starting from the beginning.

While the book started off safe enough - it was about mixing Magicks and how to do so correctly so as not to cause harm to either participant - Hermione noted that the further along into the book she got, the more… Interesting the contents became.

Chapter six, for example, was entirely on mixing Magicks for the purposes of sexual gratification and she was quick to shut the book and push it away from her, not necessarily out of embarrassment - though she was blushing fiercely - but more out of a sense of ‘that’s not really what I’m here to do.’

Even if it did give her ideas about her holiday plans, which reminded her that she needed to finish off that letter to Viktor when she returned to her dormitory for the evening.

However, the next book she pulled close seemed to be a bit more nuanced, particularly in its discussions of mixing Magicks for defense purposes and to share information.

_This is how Vector did it then…_

The Strain tingled in her veins and she felt a shock of electricity run up her spine suddenly, the sensation making her sit up straighter with a soft gasp.

But she felt it then, the eyes watching her, and while she didn’t immediately look around for the source, she desperately wanted to, instead shaking her head and returning to her reading, though she was only halfway paying attention to the words in front of her now.

Someone was staring at her from in front of her, it felt like, eyes boring into her forehead. She hadn’t been aware of anyone else coming into the Restricted Section, but then again she hadn’t entirely been listening for it.

And perhaps there were those who didn’t care about using Notice Me Nots on school grounds.

It also occurred to the witch that there were a handful of paintings in the Restricted Section, and while most of the frames were unoccupied, there were a couple that had occupants in them.

They might’ve all _appeared_ to be sleeping, but she knew better than to assume at this point, and Hermione quietly cast an invisibility charm on her ink so that her writing could no longer be seen by any prying eyes.

She wasn’t entirely sure she heard a harrumph come from somewhere close at that, but she couldn’t be entirely sure she _hadn’t_ either.

By the time she’d decided to take a break and go get something to eat, she had a healthy chunk of notes to take back to her rooms and consider, though she wished desperately that she could check out a couple of these books to take back as well.

Out of the question, that. Madame Pince was quite strict about that particular rule, even for good, respectful students like Hermione.

As she moved to clean up though, that sense of being watched returned again, this time far more prominently than it had been before, and Hermione could suddenly hear heavy footsteps approaching.

But she couldn’t see anyone, even as she looked around her, the footsteps coming closer until they sounded like they were right beside her.

Immediately, the Strain began to push against her skin, desperately trying to break free and protect her, but she pushed back, gritting her teeth as she tried to keep it at bay.

_LET ME OUT! I MUST PROTECT YOU!_

_You can’t! I can’t let you be **seen!**_

Whatever had been approaching her stopped, and she could feel the presence of the person standing next to her, but it was not a warm presence.

Not, it felt cold, icy… Like a ghost.

“Wh-Who’s there…?”

_LET. ME. OUT._

The cold was wrapping around her in some terrible parody of a lover’s embrace, her lungs fighting as the cold tried to push its way down her throat.

_There were numbers floating in front of her…_

_It was the beginning._

_Delicate female hands were casting the first predictions, letting the numbers tumble and dance before they formed something solid and clear._

_As the Strain was born, so too was the House that would always carry it, rising up out of the earth before it sunk back down, hidden away in a forgotten corner of the Hogwarts grounds where only those who truly wanted to protect what Hogwarts stood for could find it._

_Warmth and peace and understanding and love flowed through Hermione with all the intensity of a lightning strike, and despite her best efforts she knew the Strain had tumbled out of her, had formed around her again as a shield._

_She could see the battlefield again, but this time it was **more**. There were sounds all around her, screams and cries for help, the weary casting of spells in an effort to continue the fight while also trying to save those who could be saved._

_She was running from the forest still, heart hammering in her chest, but it was like everything was happening in slow motion…_

_Still calling out to someone, someone she couldn’t quite make out through the haze of spellsmoke, a name taking form on her lips…_

_“Vih-!”_

Someone was trying to rouse her, and it was only as her eyes fluttered open that Hermione realized she must’ve passed out. She was in a heap on the floor with Snape kneeling over her, one hand on her shoulder and the other tapping gently against her cheek.

“Granger? Granger!”

Madames Pince and Pomfrey were standing behind him.

How long had she been out? Where had her attacker gone?

“...sir?”

He swore, though the relief in his eyes was clear for her to see, and he moved back just a fraction as Pomfrey moved in to check Hermione out, casting diagnostic spells to make sure she hadn’t gotten hurt sometime during her episode.

Pomfrey turned to Snape with a frown.

“I want her kept overnight in the hospital wing. I need to run some extra tests, and you’d do well to be there for them, Severus.”

Hermione was looking confusedly back and forth between the two of them, sure that Snape was about to protest, sure that he was about to tell Pomfrey that Hermione would be just fine in her own bed.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he gave a nod and pulled out his wand, carefully levitating Hermione so he could guide her back out of the Restricted Section and towards the Hospital Wing.

“I’ll clear up your things and have them brought to you, Miss Granger,” Madame Pince murmured as Hermione floated past her.

_What… What’s wrong with me?_

Night had fallen, meaning Hermione had been out for far longer than last time, and it scared her to know that she’d just slipped away as she had.

Pomfrey made quick work of getting her settled once they were in the Hospital Wing and immediately began casting some diagnostic spells, watching with a furrowed brow as the results began to manifest.

Hermione was quiet, her hands folded in her lap, but she was chewing hard on her lower lip in an effort to keep herself calm, trying to just focus on taking one breath after the other as the warmth of the two people there with her comforted her.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, Severus,” Pomfrey muttered, but Hermione didn’t raise her head to try and see what the ‘this’ was, instead squeezing her eyes shut as she listened to Snape’s response.

“...neither have I.”

Hermione clenched her fists, willing herself not to cry.

What was _wrong_ with her?

“Miss Granger?” Snape gently spoke, and she could feel him reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder, trying to get her attention.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and lifted them to meet his, not really sure what she was going to find there, but hoping it wasn’t as terrible as she was expecting.

It wasn’t, but it was close.

“Poppy, could you give us a moment? I’d like to discuss what happened with Miss Granger in private.”

Pomfrey looked as though she were about to protest, but maybe there was something about the way that Hermione had leaned slightly towards her Professor in an obvious seeking of comfort that gave her pause, and instead she merely bowed her head and stepped away.

Snape still waited until the mediwitch was fully back into her office before speaking again, pitching his voice low to ensure that he wouldn’t be overheard.

“The Strain manifested itself again.”

Hermione nodded, though she knew that hadn’t been a question.

“Someone was watching me again, sir,” She replied, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I-I could feel their eyes on me, but I couldn’t see anyone.”

Snape frowned at that, but gave her a nod of encouragement to continue.

“I-I’d enchanted my ink to be invisible, just in case anyone was trying to see what I was writing, and I was in the process o-of wrapping up when-” Hermione started to frown as she recalled the details, her eyes sliding shut again.

“-when I heard footsteps approaching. I-I couldn’t see where they were coming from - it was almost like they were coming from all around me - and the Strain, she… She was yelling at me, begging me to let her out so she could protect me. And everything went cold, like I was being wrapped in a frozen blanket a-and I couldn’t breathe…”

“That explains Pomfrey’s diagnostics, then,” Snape murmured and Hermione reopened her eyes to look at him, surprised to find him closer than she’d realized.

“Sir?”

“It appeared as though you were in the beginning stages of hypothermia, Miss Granger, but we all know that you had been in the library for several hours. However, your… Testimony would suggest tha-”

But whatever it suggested would have to wait, as they were interrupted by Dumbledore rushing into the room with Pomfrey hot on his heels.

“Albus, you are to _leave that girl **alone!**_.”

But Dumbledore was keen on doing no such thing, as he was practically pushing Snape aside in his efforts to get to Hermione.

“I have _warned_ you, Miss Granger, on the dangers of letting the Strain be se-”

“Headmaster-” Snape tried to interrupt, a sour look on his features that Hermione didn’t need to try and interpret.

“Your carelessness today has proven-”

“Headmaster-”

“-that you are unfit to carry it and I can-”

“Dumbledore-”

“-not allow you to carry it any longer. I will henceforth be-”

“Albus!”

_Let me out, Hermione._

So, she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all of you who have read and kudosed and reviewed. You each mean the world to me, and you're the reason I keep doing this.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think of this chapter, too! And, as always, feel free to shout at me on [tumblr!](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 13: Do No Harm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unleash the power, but be careful when you do so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dumbledore gonna get it_

Hermione didn’t even have to think when the Strain spoke to her, didn’t even have to say the words but merely thought them and the Strain flowed from her, forming a barrier between her and Dumbledore.

The Headmaster looked alarmed, taking a step back, though the Strain pushed closer, forcing the old man back until he’d bumped into Snape who was watching all of the goings on with a smirk.

“You will not take her from me,” Hermione growled, sitting up straight on the bed and looking as if she, too, wanted to take on the Headmaster, wanted to fight him for the Strain.

Hermione knew she would win if it came to that.

She could also see the shape of Dumbledore in the spell, could see the threads that wove and clung and divided so many others. Could see the beginning…

And maybe even the end.

“Miss Granger, I-”

“I have seen where it started, when Isadora Avila wove the first equation and set it into motion. I have seen where that led to, when the others joined and left and returned and disappeared entirely. I have seen where it will go and where it will not and where it will go to again. I have seen it all, and no one - not even _you_ , Albus Dumbledore - will take her from me.”

There was a tingling sensation at the ends of her fingertips, running up her arms with little electric jolts, and if Hermione were to look down, she’d see blue lightning dancing up her exposed forearms.

But Hermione wasn’t looking down, wasn’t looking anywhere except at the Headmaster, starting to understand things now that she couldn’t have even dreamed of before.

She saw the base code, and how it was originally just a guiding spell with no set plan, how it grew itself into Ophiuchus - the serpent bearer - and delivered itself to those who might understand it.

But it was about so much more, wasn’t it?

Even then, as she was staring through the numbers at the Headmaster, she was seeing the answers, the edges of her vision going white as the Strain showed her more.

_...hands on her hips, holding her close; a flash of green light; Harry’s smile and Ron’s laugh; a couple holding hands; a Death Eater lifting a hand to take off their mask…_

There was a jolt suddenly and a painful thump in her chest as she fell forward, only marginally missing the floor due to Snape’s quick reflexes and one of her hands fisted in his robes as he tried to soothe her.

“I think it best that you leave, Albus,” Hermione was distantly aware of Madame Pomfrey saying, though Dumbledore wasn’t about to do so without a parting word or two of his own.

“...be warned, Miss Granger, that the next time you do not control yourself, the consequences will be more dire than you can even imagine.”

If she’d had the energy, she would’ve given him a rude hand gesture, but she felt impossibly weak and wasn’t surprised when Snape lifted her up to put her back to bed, concern etched into his features even as Pomfrey began running more diagnostic spells.

Hermione tried staying conscious long enough to hear the prognosis, but the Strain - still protecting her as a mother would its child - murmured to her to sleep.

And so she did.

*

When she came to again, it was with the sight of the sun just starting to peak above the horizon, and Hermione winced as she attempted to turn over onto her side and away from the light.

Her head hurt unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, the pain so intense that she felt as though she were about to vomit, and every bone in her body ached with a cold she couldn’t explain.

There was someone standing at the foot of her bed.

Someone who wasn’t actually there.

“...no…”

“Miss Granger?” She heard a voice murmur, a low male voice that immediately put her back at ease, and the curtain for the bed opposite was drawn back, revealing Snape who - by the looks of it - hadn’t gotten much sleep.

The cold presence was still there, but it wasn’t moving closer.

“...it’s here again, sir.”

Snape frowned, looking around to try and ascertain what she meant.

“What is?”

“Whatever it was that attacked me in the library.”

She didn’t see it happen, but suddenly his wand was in his hand as he went on alert, and she was able to make out a flick of his wrist as he cast a detection spell.

“...there’s nothing here…”

“I can feel it, sir, i-”

But the words died in her throat suddenly as that same icy chill as before took over, as a hand covered her mouth, another grasping her throat and her eyes went wide as she tried to struggle against it, hands trying to grab and tear at wrists that weren’t actually there...

Snape, for all that it was clear he didn’t know what was happening, was still trying to fight against it, and it was clear that something _was_ attacking her given that the sounds she was making were terribly muffled.

But still, nothing was there, no matter how many spells he cast.

Hermione could see the edges of her vision going black, knew she was going to lose the fight with consciousness, when a flash of red and another of blue overtook everything.

She could breathe again, was taking in big, gulping gasps as she coughed and tried to turn away again, half falling out of the bed in her efforts.

There were hands on her arms, holding and supporting her, and she didn’t need to have her eyes open to see who those hands belonged to, though there was a comfort there she hadn’t expected.

Slowly, her eyes opened, confusion furrowing her brow as she realized they were both surrounded by that blue light she’d seen.

_The Strain. But how…?_

“Are you alright, Miss Granger?”

She wasn’t sure, and couldn’t find the strength to answer either verbally or non-verbally, instead just letting her eyes slide closed again, and hardly a moment passed before a sense of weightlessness overtook her and she found herself once more laid out on the hospital bed.

More words, more spells, a sense of warmth overtaking her and she finally felt her muscles start to relax.

Just before she fell asleep, she heard Snape murmur another spell, seeing that same flash of red she’d seen earlier.

_Non Nocere? What does that mean…?_

*

Her head didn’t hurt as much when she awoke the second time, though there was still a deep ache in her bones that Hermione most certainly didn’t like.

The warmth of the blankets around her helped though, and she pulled them up tighter about her shoulders as she carefully opened an eye and peered around her.

Still in the hospital wing, but it seemed that - for the time being, at least - she was alone.

“Caw!”

Or, perhaps not.

Slowly, she opened the other eye to take in the giant bird perched on the bedside table that was staring at her rather expectantly.

It cawed again before holding out it’s leg in offering, and Hermione reached out a slightly-shaky hand to detach the letter she found there.

“I wasn’t expecting a reply already. Thank you Edgar.”

He cawed again and preened a bit when she ran a finger over his head in a gentle pet before ruffling his feathers and flapping his wings, taking flight again a moment later.

Hermione watched as he flew out the door into the main corridor, trying to hide her smile when a _very_ confused Draco Malfoy came in a moment later.

“...was that a _raven_ I just saw fly out of here?”

“Honestly, Malfoy-” Hermione teasingly scoffed. “-as if a _bird_ could get into the hospital wing.”

She’d managed to hide the letter from view before Draco came in, though she was a bit disappointed. Maybe reading a letter from Viktor would be just the thing to lift her spirits.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Sliced my finger earlier. Snape sent me up to have it checked out and make sure it was thoroughly cleaned.”

He took a step closer before digging into an inner pocket of his robes, pulling out a small vial of a purple liquid and handing it to her a moment later.

“Also, I’m bringing you this. Should help with some of your… Problems.”

Hermione reached out to take it, noting that there was still a bit of a tremble in her hand, but she gave Malfoy a smile and a small nod of thanks.

“...how much do you know?”

He shook his head and mouthed the word ‘later’ to her before stepping back again, calling out for Madame Pomfrey in that more-pompous tone of voice that Hermione had grown accustomed to over the years.

“Oh, _honestly_ , Mister Malfoy-” The Mediwitch scolded as she stepped out of her office. “-there are _actual_ patients here who- Oh! Miss Granger! Good, you’re awake!”

Draco pouted and let out a complaint as Pomfrey moved past him to come check on Hermione, but Hermione noticed the grin he shot her as he moved towards the potions cabinet and helped himself to a cleansing potion and a bit of gauze.

“How did you sleep, my dear?”

“...fitfully,” Hermione answered honestly. “I still can’t quite seem to shake this cold feeling.”

“I’ve been up most of the night studying with Professor Snape, and we think that - somehow - you’ve fallen prey to hypothermia. We don’t know the source, but the symptoms are quite clear.”

_What?_

The question must’ve been fairly clear for all that Hermione didn’t actually verbalize it, because the Mediwitch sighed and moved to take a careful seat on the edge of the bed.

“You were quite literally freezing from the inside out. Neither of us have ever seen anything like it, though I have reached out to a handful of trusted colleagues to see if perhaps they are more familiar with this sort of affliction. Right now, the best we can do is combat it and try to-”

“Wait, wait, I’m… I’m sorry, Madame Pomfrey, but are you saying I _still_ have it?”

“Yes. We can try and combat some of the symptoms, but until we can figure out the cause I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do. Given that we’re moving into colder weather season as well, I would recommend you refresh yourself on warming charms for your clothing.”

_Bloody hell…_

“Professor Snape will likely want to speak with you when you’re feeling up to it. There’s not much more that I can do for you at this time, and you are free to go. If you’d prefer, the fireplace in my office can Floo you to Professor Snape’s office?”

Hermione thought about it for a moment, giving a nod of agreement rather quickly, realizing that she’d made a good decision when she went to get out of bed and her legs nearly immediately collapsed under her.

“...you’ll possibly want to speak with him about strengthening potions as well, my dear.”

Merlin, but how was she going to make it through the rest of the year if she couldn’t walk?

If she couldn’t even stay _warm_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*squees*_ Y'all. I love y'all. So very, very much. Thank you for the hits and the kudos and the comments! They mean the world to me and I hope you never stop sending them!
> 
> As always, feel free to reach out to me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com) with questions, comments, concerns or just the general need to yell at me :)


	15. Chapter 14: A Discovery of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes a breakthrough, but what does it mean??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blown away by the continued show of support y'all are bestowing upon me, and I can't thank you enough for it! I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I am!!

The next few days were something of a struggle for Hermione as she started to adapt to what was happening to her, as she learned how to discreetly redo her warming charms throughout the day, ever thankful for the fact that it was November in Scotland and staying warm was generally considered a smart idea.

No one questioned the extra layer of socks or if she kept her cloak wrapped around her a bit longer after getting to class.

Thankfully, her strength hadn’t been entirely sapped by whatever had attacked her, and by the second day she was already moving about much as she had before, though occasionally the cold would get into her joints a bit, and she’d have to reapply her warming charms so she wasn’t seen limping about the castle.

Nights still seemed to be the hardest though, and Hermione was still struggling to find ways to stay warm while she slept. For some reason, the charms she’d been using only lasted a handful of hours, and she tended to wake in the wee hours of the morning with icy feet. Even though she reapplied the charms, getting back to sleep after was proving difficult.

But, slowly, she learned, and she adapted and before anyone knew it November had ended, December had arrived, and it was only a couple of days before the Christmas break would be upon them.

It was a Saturday, and it was snowing outside and Hermione really just wanted to curl up in bed with Crookshanks while she read under a pile of blankets.

However, there was work to be done, and she was trying her damnedest to do it.

She was in the private Avila workspace, the Strain lazily floating in front of her while she poked at a couple of numbers with the end of her wand, eyes narrowing when absolutely nothing changed.

“Okay… Another fixed point, then. Which one…?”

She’d managed to narrow down that it had something to do with Harry, but outside of that, she was a bit clueless.

“...problems, Hermione?”

She looked up to see Ginny standing there in the doorway with a cup of tea in each hand, and she offered the redhead a grin as she straightened up on her stool and waved her over.

“Oh, just… This thing.” She waved her hand at the Strain with a sigh. “Trying to decipher it is… A bit of a beast, really.”

“I can only imagine,” Ginny replied, handing over one of the cups of tea to Hermione before conjuring herself a stool to sit on. “Are you having _any_ sort of luck with it?”

“Well, some, but it’s slow going. I either have vague ideas about what’s going to happen and when, or I know who key players in the overall story are, but not both.”

Ginny frowned at that. “...I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well, see here-” Hermione pointed at the part of the equation she’d been working on all morning. “-this part? I know it’s about Harry. There’s a particular pattern of numbers that correlate to him, and it shows up here. However, I can’t tell you what exactly this particular thread is referencing, only that it’s something that’s already happened.”

“A fixed point, you said?”

“Precisely. It’s something important, I know that much, but whether it’s ‘Harry lived that night in Godric’s Hollow’ big or ‘Harry didn’t fall off his broom in first year’ big I _don’t_ know.”

“Do you have anything else to help clue you in?”

Hermione gave another small shake of her head. “I know Voldemort is involved, but again, there’s a few different fixed points in Harry’s timeline at this point that involve him as well, so it’s hard to… to say…”

“Hermione?”

But Hermione was looking at something else then, and another couple of flicks of her wand and the bit of the Strain that she’d been looking at floated out, accompanied by two more smaller threads that were running alongside and around it.

“...Hermione?”

“This is referencing that night at the Ministry two years ago.”

“You’re sure?”

Hermione nodded. “Positive. See this bit here?” She was pointing to a single string of numbers that were circling around Harry’s. “I’m fairly certain that’s Sirius. These numbers have only shown up a handful of times in the Strain, and never in anything that I think might be later than this night.”

Ginny’s lips thinned at the information, but she nodded. “Sirius’ death hit Harry terribly hard. I don’t think there’s any question about that. But you’re suggesting something more?”

“I-I think - and I’ll need to discuss this with others later to make sure - that perhaps, this was the turning point for Harry. Something changed that night for him, and it’s what set us down this particular path.”

“But where does it go?”

Hermione shook her head again. “Your guess is as good as mine, Ginny. Truly.”

*

Draco and Hermione had both taken to having weekly meetings with their Head of House, with Draco typically going first given that he usually didn’t have as much to say as Hermione seemed to.

It was more convenient that way, just in case her own appointment went long.

That particular meeting found her sharing her thoughts on what she’d discovered earlier that day while working with the Strain, and Snape was nodding in agreement by the time she got to the end of her explanation.

“Potter did seem much changed after that particular evening, I’ll agree.” He was in the process of topping off both their teas as he spoke, an eyebrow arching when Hermione tugged her blanket a bit higher up her lap again.

“I’m sure you know Voldemort briefly possessed him?”

Snape nodded. “I had been informed of as much, yes. You were also aware of the… Lessons I was giving Potter during that year?”

“Yes, sir. I also know those lessons were things Harry struggled with, though _why_ he struggled with them, I don’t quite understand.”

“The Headmaster has… Theories, but given that he hasn’t shared them with me, I can offer no further conjecture myself.”

Hermione sighed, pulling a bit of a face but reserving comment, instead changing the subject.

“I think, somehow, Harry and Voldemort are connected, and are connected in ways we don’t yet understand. _Something_ happened that night at Godric’s Hollow. Something else happened when Voldemort was resurrected, and even more happened that night at the Ministry. I’m sure of it, the Strain is sure of it… I just can’t see the bigger picture just yet.”

Snape nodded at that, but didn’t immediately comment, instead taking his wand out and giving it a little flick, and instantly Hermione felt her blanket warm again, murmuring her thanks before he started speaking again.

“What _can_ you see, then?”

“I can see that a large battle is going to be happening, likely soon. Before the summer solstice, and possibly as soon as the equinox, though I’m not sure of the significance of that date. I know the battle will happen here at Hogwarts, and all signs point thus far to this being _the_ battle, sir.”

Something dark swam across Snape’s eyes at the information, and if Hermione didn’t know any better, she’d almost say that the professor was alarmed at the information.

But Snape? Alarmed? That seemed unlikely…

The thing had passed even sooner than it had appeared, anyway, and Hermione decided it was best not to speculate.

“All signs thus far? Elaborate, if you could please.”

“Well,” Hermione curled up a bit in her seat, tucking the blanket around her legs a bit more. “I’ve been able to figure out who is who among the numbers. I know key players and side note players and what have you, and _all_ of the key players are involved at the top of the Strain.”

She called it forth so it could hover before her, figuring it would be easier if Snape could see for himself what she was referencing.

“This part here-” She pulled out her wand and poked a floating string of numbers, watching them turn green for a second before returning to their usual blue. “-is what I’m referencing. It’s, at this point, the last part of the puzzle. Everything leads up to this moment, and so far nothing has surfaced to suggest that there will be an _after_ of this moment.”

Snape’s eyebrows drew together at that. “Meaning?”

She shrugged. “It ends. One way or another, it all ends, sir.”

“But do you _really_ think that, Miss Granger? Or are you assuming?”

“I’m telling you what the Strain is telling me at this time. Maybe whatever happens on that day is just too varied at this point, and the Strain doesn’t have enough to extrapolate anything past it. I don’t know, sir, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Hermione,” Snape sighed, leaning back a hint in his seat as he uncrossed and then recrossed his legs. “I know we’ve asked much of you concerning this particular task, and you’ve risen admirably to it. The timeline… Concerns me, however, as it’s much more accelerated than I had originally anticipated.”

So she _hadn’t_ misinterpreted that look in his eyes a moment ago? That was a terrifying thought.

“May I ask what sort of timeline you _had_ been expecting then, sir?”

He sighed, giving a small shake of his head. “There’s only so much I can tell you without putting you at risk, but I _can_ tell you that if the Dark Lord is planning on attacking Hogwarts within the next few months, he’s amassed far more support than any of us realize, including those of us in his inner circle.”

“What does that mean for us, then?”

“That we had better start amassing more troops ourselves.”

*

Hermione slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning under the covers, awaking a few times with leg cramps from the cold seeping in despite the warming charms that Snape had placed on her blankets.

She was dreaming of the bloodied field again, of Hogwarts burning, of calling out for someone as she was being chased by a person in robes… The same dream as before, but so much more vivid.

She also dreamed, though, of warm skin pressed against hers, of hands on her hips, a kiss pressed against the pulse point in her neck, a beloved name passing through her lips as she breathed in this person like they were the only air she needed to live.

She awoke feeling confused and a little bit hot and bothered, neither of which she had time to think about since she needed to finish getting her things packed as she disembarked for the holidays.

Thankfully, many of the other students had left the previous morning, so the Hogwarts Express was nearly empty as Hermione climbed on board and tucked herself up into a compartment with Crookshanks and a couple of books, her trusty blanket draped over her legs and her cloak nearby just in case she needed to pull it around her.

She was surprised when a knock came to her cabin door not long after the train pulled out of the station, and she looked up to see Professor Vector standing in the doorway.

“Hello, Hermione. May I join you for a moment?”

“Professor Vector! Yes, of course, please!”

“I won’t be long,” Vector reiterated as she took a seat across from Hermione, carefully folding her hands in her lap. “I just wanted to check in on you, see how things are coming along. I’ve come to understand you’ve been through quite a bit already this term.”

“Yes, professor,” Hermione agreed with a nod. “But I’m doing alright, I suppose. Things… Could be worse.”

Vector studied her for a long moment with her intense silver gaze, and Hermione had to fight the urge to fidget in her seat.

“Severus has kept me abreast of your work with the Strain. I’m happy to hear that it’s taken to you so keenly. I’d like to hear a bit more about it, if you can?”

Hermione agreed, giving her professor a quick rundown of what she’d learned so far, but she kept the details small, not wanting to share too much information just in case their conversation was being listened in on.

Vector didn’t seem surprised by Hermione’s telling, and when she was finished, made a point to compliment her on her accomplishments.

“I had my feelings about you, Granger. You’ve far exceeded them, I can assure you.”

Hermione blushed, but murmured her thanks.

“No need to thank me. Just… Keep up the good work. I know it can’t be easy, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

The two talked for a few minutes more before Vector took her leave, saying something about needing to catch up on her scholarly readings before floating out the door and once more leaving Hermione to herself.

It was tempting to let the Strain out, to work on it some while she traveled, but Hermione didn’t really know who she could trust outside of Hogwarts, and thought it better to not risk it.

Instead, she’d pulled out the notes she’d taken on mixing Magicks, going over them and making comments on a separate sheet of parchment, also adding some additional things she wanted to look into once she returned to Hogwarts.

It wasn’t like she was going to have time over the holidays, after all.

The rest of the trip passed quietly, and it wasn’t long before they were pulling into King’s Cross, and Hermione waved goodbye to Vector as she passed her on the platform, wishing her a happy Christmas before heading through the platform barrier and back into the Muggle world.

She made it all of about ten feet before a set of strong arms lifted her up from behind, and she squealed in surprise before she was put back down and spun around so she could see her ‘attacker’.

“Hello, Viktor.”

“Happy Christmas, my Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, we're finally gonna earn the E rating in the next chapter ;)
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com) if you want!


	16. Chapter 15: Viktor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Viktor start off their holiday with a bit of a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to first and foremost apologize for the delay in this chapter. I had originally planned on getting this chapter out to you all by Christmas, and here it is a week after the New Year. Real Life sort of had other plans with me and then I fought a bit with this chapter, and as a result ended up changing a few of my original plans for it in order to just _get the damn thing written_ though, in the end, I think I like it better this way.

Hermione had been a bit surprised when Viktor scooped her off her feet in a warm embrace, and had been even more surprised when he’d openly kissed her in full-view of the people around them.

A handful of people - all Muggles, at least - looked at them oddly, but Hermione was a bit too happy to see him to actually care about what complete strangers thought.

“Shall we go, my Hermione?” He asked once he’d put her back down on her feet, grinning a little crookedly at her as he moved to take one of her hands in his.

“We shall,” She agreed, squeezing his hand before quietly shrinking down her luggage, not entirely surprised when he scooped it up and stashed it away into the inner pocket of his coat.

Whatever she’d been expecting next, though, it wasn’t for him to whisk her away to a rather lovely little bistro for dinner where they could sit around and catch up, have a couple of drinks and cuddle by the fire as they enjoyed an after-dinner coffee.

The fire in particular was a nice touch, and Viktor seemed keen on keeping his arm around her, especially when she detailed more of the issues she’d been having since the attacks on her person.

“So, you do not yet know who or even _what_ attacked you?”

Hermione gave a small nod at the question, her gaze dropping down to the mug she was carefully cradling in her hands, the tips of her fingers a bit colder than she would’ve liked.

“There didn’t seem to actually _be_ anything there either time, but there’s no doubting what’s happened to me, Viktor. What’s _continuing_ to happen to me.”

“Is it more than just the growing chill, then?”

Hermione gave a hesitant nod at that. “I’m slowly starting to be plagued by visions.”

“Visions?”

Another small nod. “I really don’t know what else to call them, but it’s almost like… Like the Strain is trying to tell me things even when I’m not asking for answers.”

“I would be interested in seeing this Strain of yours, my Hermione,” Viktor murmured, turning his head to brush his lips against her temple, and Hermione let her eyes slide closed for a moment in contentment.

“But not now.”

She straightened up at that, turning to give him a teasing smile. “I couldn’t exactly show you here anyway. We’re in the heart of Muggle London, after all.”

“I meant more for when we are later alone.” He had turned his head slightly to whisper a kiss against the side of her neck. “Unless you would like to stay here longer?”

There was a clear suggestion there in his voice, one that Hermione was suddenly quite keen on exploring.

“I think I’ve had quite enough of public for one day.”

Another few moments and they were making their way outside, turning with a laugh down a side alley as Viktor once more wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he Apparated them away.

No sooner had they landed - Hermione was only given a quick moment to determine that they must’ve been in the house he’d rented for their holiday - than Viktor had scooped her up into his arms, holding her close as he carried her away and towards the bedroom.

As they crossed the threshold, Hermione felt a shudder race down her spine, though it was only partially because of the feel of Viktor’s lips pressing against the pulse point in her neck.

Viktor, seemingly sensing that it was also because of the chill in the room, let his wand slide into his hand from where he’d had it stashed in his sleeve, quickly casting a spell to light a fire in the fireplace before casting a warming charm over the bed as well.

Hermione appreciated the gesture, especially when he set her down on top of it a moment later.

“You are so beautiful, my Hermione,” He breathed as he lifted long, calloused fingers to brush a stray curl out of her eyes, offering her another crooked smile.

“...Viktor…”

“So beautiful and so wonderful and so very, very smart. You have so much to offer, so much you could give to anyone who would want you, and yet…” He shook his head before leaning over to press his lips to her neck again, letting the kiss slide down after a moment to tease at the top of her collarbone.

“...and yet you want to offer yourself to me.”

“Yes, I do,” She agreed, lifting a hand to tangle in his hair, curling into him as she sought out more of his warmth, shuddering slightly as another chill threatened to take over her.

“You are still cold,” He noticed, his fingers ghosting over the buttons of her shirt in a teasing touch. “Should I warm you up, my Hermione?”

“Yes, Viktor…” She agreed, tugging him back up towards her. “...Please.”

They’d spoken some about their intimacy in their letters to one another, but it was one thing to talk about it - to remember it, even - and to actually be in the moment experiencing it.

Experiencing Viktor, as he was quite quickly reminding her, was something to _definitely_ enjoy.

Hermione let out a faint giggle as Viktor’s lips brushed against her collarbone, arching up slightly into him when his fingers started to slowly pop open the buttons of her blouse, her fingers tightening just a fraction in his hair when he pressed a kiss to the space between her breasts.

He pulled back a hint, dark eyes peering down at her with a warmth and a desire that made her blush, her skin flushing further when he bent his head over her again and licked along the top edge of her bra cup.

Another moment, and he had taken the fabric between his teeth and was pulling it down, his hands sliding around and up to gently coax her shirt off her shoulders.

Hermione shivered again as the cold air hit her skin, and Viktor immediately moved, carefully coming to rest between her thighs so he could more-fully cover her body with his, his hands sliding around her so he could hold her close to him as his mouth reacquainted itself with the peak of her breast.

There was a familiar tingling sensation in the witch’s fingertips suddenly, and she glanced down to see the tiniest hints of blue arcing through Viktor’s hair where she held onto him, and Hermione giggled despite herself, letting the Strain wash over them both as it seemed wont to do.

Memories of her dream from the previous evening flooded her then, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave into the dual sensations…

...were there two _different_ sets of hands on her skin, though? Two different pairs of lips?

Viktor’s teeth suddenly grazed along the base of her ribs, though, pulling her back into the present, and idly Hermione wondered when he’d managed to divest her of her bra.

He’d also had the foresight to pull the blanket up over them, an idea Hermione certainly wasn’t against given the way Viktor suddenly slid down her body to kneel between her legs, his hands splayed wide along the inside of her thighs to hold her open as he once more looked down on her.

He muttered something then in Bulgarian, a phrase Hermione couldn’t quite translate, but she had a pretty good inkling about its meaning by the sheer _hunger_ that she could see in his eyes, and maybe that was why it wasn’t a surprise when he shifted to start peeling her trousers off of her, the touch of his hands a gentle and warm caress when he smoothed them back up her now-bare legs.

She was trembling again, but this time it wasn’t entirely because of the chill in the air, and had much _much_ more to do with the way he was looking at her, the way he was touching her…

...leaning over her to press kisses to the inside of her thighs, starting at her knees and alternating back and forth as he made his way up and up and up.

He was muttering to himself in Bulgarian again, and Hermione had picked up just enough of the language to blush at what she was hearing, a hand tangling in his hair and the other fisting in the sheets beneath her when his lips pressed against the part of her skin where thigh turned into hip, his teeth teasingly pulling at the lower edge of her panties.

But then he pulled back suddenly, shifting over her so that he could peer down at her again, giving her another smile as his fingers started to trace the skin of her lower belly, still teasing, still making her arch and buck into the touch even as she growled in frustration at him.

“...why did you _stop_??”

“Patience, my Hermione-” He murmured, his fingers starting to creep below the hem of her panties then. “-I must _teach_ you patience again, then?”

On the plus side, his closeness meant there was more heat for her to try and absorb, at least.

But it was a thought that quickly fled from her when his fingers ventured lower, lower, lower until they found the slick heat of her sex, and she gasped when he pressed a finger in further to explore that slickness for himself, slowly easing a finger into her to gather moisture before sliding it back up to gently run across the swollen nub at the peak.

She curled into him a bit more then, not surprised when he pressed his forehead against hers, his free arm wrapping around her to pull her in close as his fingers continued to explore and massage and gently thrust, coaxing more out of her until she’d opened herself up further, until her back was arching off the bed and hips bucking and she gasped his name when sparks went off behind her eyes and her whole body seized in ecstasy.

Hermione was still trembling slightly when she returned to herself, taking in gasping breaths for air as she turned her head to try and find his lips, sighing into him when he acquiesced to her silent demand and covered her mouth with his.

...there was still that lingering feeling though, right at the edge of her fingertips that was telling her Viktor’s hands weren’t the ones that were supposed to be touching her just then, that they _certainly_ hadn’t been the ones touching her in her dreams…

She ignored it though, turning into him, pulling him closer and helping him get his own clothes off, basking in the warmth of his body and the litheness of his frame, distantly disagreeing with comments she’d heard over the years about him only being graceful and elegant when he was on a broom.

The covers were still up over them when they were finally both free from the restrictions of their clothes, when she pushed him onto his back and threw a leg over his waist, when she guided his hands to her hips and when she sank down onto him, leaning forward to capture his lips again as she slowly began to rock against him and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her closer still as they moved together towards their inevitable conclusion.

It was only after, when she was sprawled out on top of him, with his fingers gently caressing up and down the soft skin of her spine, her ear pressed to his chest to listen to the way his heart started to slow back down again, that she realized that blanket had fallen somewhat.

Part of that might’ve had to do with her sweat-slick skin suddenly being chilled by the air around them, and she shuddered so hard and so _violently_ suddenly that it was a wonder Viktor wasn’t dislodged from within her.

Her teeth started to chatter as well, and immediately the man moved, wrapping his arms around her more fully again as he tugged the blankets up further around them, as he wrapped her in his embrace and reached for his wand to cast another warming spell over them.

He was sweating within seconds from the added heat, and still Hermione shivered, her hands clinging to him as she fought against what was happening to her.

“I’m s-sorry, Vikt-t-tor-”

He quietly shushed her at that, pressing his lips to the top of her curls and shifting so that they could tangle their legs together in an effort to push more of his body heat into her.

“Do not apologize, dear heart. I know you do not do this on purpose.”

“I _w-was_ warm-” She tried to explain, burying her face into the side of his neck.

“I will endeavour to help you discover what is happening to you,” He quietly vowed, once again gently cutting her off, seemingly not needing her apologies.

“I have access to books-” Viktor began to clarify, his voice a low, warm murmur. “-books that may be forbidden by your Ministry but which I can bring to you if you would like.”

Oh, but he _did_ know how to talk dirty to her, didn’t he?

“...books?”

“Durmstrang was… Not so careful about hiding away some of its books. We were not just taught your Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione, but were taught some of those Dark Arts itself. If you will accompany me, perhaps while we are on our holiday we may visit? As a graduated student I still have access to its library.”

Hermione was still shivering, teeth still chattering a bit, but it seemed as though the combination of charms and Viktor was finally starting to take effect, and she was beginning to relax again as she pulled her head away from his neck long enough to peer up at him.

“You mean it? Yo-you’ll take me to Dumrstrang?”

Viktor chuckled but gave a small nod again. “I will. I cannot promise that it will have what you are looking for, but I believe it may put you down a path that will hopefully result in answers for you.”

Hermione was kissing him again then, kissing that soon turned a bit more serious and then Viktor was going about seeing if he could warm her up again, and really, nothing else was to be said on that subject for a while.

The next morning, however, when Hermione awoke, it was to a gently snoring bedmate and the fire having died down to embers the fireplace.

She pulled her wand from where she’d left it discarded on the nightstand, casting another warming charm on one of the random blankets that were piled on the bed, wrapping it around her as she ventured out from beneath the bedsheets and found the bathroom.

Viktor was still sleeping when she emerged, and it didn’t take her but a moment to find something to wear, slipping on some charm-warmed socks along with her winter pajamas before she re-wrapped the blanket about her and ventured downstairs and towards the kitchen to make herself some tea.

She hadn’t been expecting any sort of correspondence from, well, _anyone_ during this holiday, and maybe that was why it was such a surprise when she saw a _very_ familiar white snowy owl perched outside the window when she got to the kitchen.

“Hedwig!”

Quickly letting the owl in, she found something for her to eat, letting her warm up for a moment herself before she realized that there was a letter tied to the bird’s leg.

And still, Hermione hesitated.

Why were the boys reaching out to her now? Had they found something? Had something happened? Did they realize they needed her and wanted her to join them?

Could she?

 _Would_ she?

Eventually, though, curiosity got the better of her, and she carefully moved to take the letter, curling up a bit more into her blanket as she opened it to read.

By the end of it, she couldn’t remember a time she’d ever been so angry in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me, y'all. It means the world to me.
> 
> Also, a special shoutout to Q and the rest of the lovely ladies of our discord for their continued cheerleading on not just this, but all of the chapters thus far of this story. Y'all mean more to me than you know.
> 
> As always, I'd love to know what you think, and feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) for questions, comments, concerns, or to just scream at me a bit :)


	17. Chapter 16: Durmstrang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns a bit more about magick mixing and how it might apply to what she's going through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a beast of a chapter, but there are some new things introduced here that are going to be key going forward.

Hermione was livid.

No, livid didn’t even do it justice. She had been spun off into a level of pissed off from which she might never recover.

“That complete, total, absolute _bastard!_ ”

Hedwig ruffled her feathers at the witch’s outburst, leaning back slightly as her eyes widened from the sudden noise.

“I can’t believe him! The bloody… the bloody _nerve_ of him, I-”

“Hermione! What is the matter??”

Viktor had come skidding into the kitchen wearing… Not much, his hair sticking out in a few different directions as he came closer to her, wand in hand in case he needed to defend her.

She shoved the letter at him, her words having decided to take that moment to fail her.

_Hermione,_

_It’s been quiet here the last few days. Maybe that’s why I’ve started to notice you aren’t here. Things usually aren’t that quiet when you’re around._

_Ron does what he can to fill that void, I suppose, but he just wants to distract me by talking about Quidditch or imagining what you all might be doing at Hogwarts right now. He knows he doesn’t have any good ideas when it comes to finding the Horcruxes, so he doesn’t bother talking about them._

_Course, I can’t say you had any good ideas about them either. He’s upset we didn’t bring you, but I think we made the right decision. Sure, you read faster than we do, and while I appreciate you think you were always doing what was best for us, I feel like now we can take bigger risks without having to worry about you nagging us._

_I figured out a clue as to where the next Horcrux might be without you, even. You should be proud. I saw it in the “Prophet.” Evening edition from the 17th. Honestly, it was so obvious even Ron would’ve picked up on it._

_I’m starting to wonder if maybe you were holding me back all those years. What was it you told me all those years ago? There was more to life than cleverness and books? I think you’re right, Hermione. But I don’t think you really believe it yourself._

_I love you, but I think you’d just be holding us back now. We’ve got books if we need them, and really, that’s all we need, isn’t it? Not someone who just parrots the contents of them back to us.  
Harry_

Viktor read the letter, and then read it again, looking over it a couple of times, and holding it up to the light to see if maybe he was missing something.

He even cast a spell over it to see if maybe the words were so horrible in case it was supposed to be coded or something, but nothing changed about the letter’s contents in the slightest.

Hermione was trying her best not to cry, thinking about those words over and over again as she tried not to imagine what sort of hell Ron must’ve been going through…

“...I am sure he did not mean this, Hermi-”

“He said I was _useless_ , Viktor! **Useless!**

Viktor spent the next several minutes reassuring Hermione that she wasn’t, in fact, any sort of useless and somehow managed to calm her down to a medium simmer, though Hermione knew it probably wouldn’t take much to set her back off.

Maybe it helped when Viktor made her tea and some breakfast - when had he learned to make pancakes? - and he actually listened to her when she vented some of her frustrations over the way the boys had just vanished into thin air a few months previously.

Maybe it also helped that he gently started to steer the conversation back to safer waters by appealing to her academic side, slowly getting her to start talking about the Strain again.

After they’d eaten, he even managed to get her to show him the Strain, his eyes going wide when it emerged from her body and formed in front of them as it’s usual glowing orb.

“It is quite _intense_ , my Hermione,” He muttered after a long moment of silence. “I did not study Arithmancy at Durmstrang as it was always offered in the same time as Dueling, but one of my dorm mates studied it directly. I know that there are several books in the Durmstrang library that may aid you in your search.”

“You had mentioned as much last night,” Hermione agreed as she tapped out a small rhythm on the mug she held in her hands, her voice softer now that she’d been sufficiently distracted.

“If you are not unwelcome to the idea-” Viktor continued. “-I can book us travel there for this afternoon. There is a place close by where we can stay and then first thing in the morning we can go to the school so you can study?”

Hermione was quiet for a moment as she contemplated the idea, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

There were likely also books there that might help her figure out the curse that was plaguing her, a book that would be easier to get her hands on in a place where the Dark Arts were taught and not just defended against…

“...I am not unwelcome to the idea,” She finally murmured, giving him a gentle smile before recalling the Strain back into her body, a hint of amusement creeping into her eyes at the look on Viktor’s face when he saw her do it.

“So, your Strain… It lives inside of you? It swims in your blood and protects you when you need it?”

“Something like that,” Hermione agreed, taking another sip of her tea. “It’s sort of _melded_ with my own magic.”

“Do you feel it?”

“I felt it more in the beginning,” She clarified with a gentle shake of her head. “Probably because it was still adapting to me. Still figuring me out. Now, though… It’s more that I just _know_ it’s there. Like the rest of my magic.”

Viktor nodded at that, taking all of it in even if it was clear by the look on his face that he didn’t entirely understand it.

“...and it speaks to you?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“How do you think it is possible that it does this?”

Hermione paused at that, having not really considered the question before. It just _did_ , and why should that be weird?

But it **was** a bit weird, wasn’t it? Equations shouldn’t be able to speak, to have conversations.

It was like it had a consciousness of its own, and wasn’t _that_ a little bit of a terrifying thought?

_I would never harm you._   
**I know, but _how_ do I know that?**   
_Because I cannot exist without you, now._

Hermione wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a more terrifying thought, because a part of her wondered if she could exist without it, either.

But she didn’t voice any of that aloud, and instead changed the subject again to what the weather conditions would be like at Durmstrang and what she should pack and wear for their trip.

Viktor suggested furs, and honestly, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. She’d have to go about transfiguring some, sure she’d read a spell on the subject somewhere over the years...

While Viktor arranged their travels, Hermione spent the next few hours lazing about and doing some light reading on Transfiguration, though there was a _very_ nice break just before lunch where Viktor spent a good half an hour with his head between her thighs, and Hermione really was starting to wonder if she’d imagined all of that bit the night before where his hands hadn’t felt quite right on her skin.

But then, later, when he’d taken his hand in hers so he could Apparate them away, she wondered why the callouses felt _off_ , like they weren’t in the right places on his palm and fingers.

She wasn’t given all that much time to think about it, though, because for some reason the Apparation from England to Scandinavia wasn’t nearly as easy for her as the trip from one side of London to the other had been.

Hermione managed to keep lunch in her, but just barely, and Viktor frowned even as he apologized for upsetting her.

They spent the rest of the evening lounging about in the hotel room Viktor had gotten for them, with Hermione curled up in a chair by the fire under a pile of blankets while Viktor looked as though he’d never been more comfortable in his life than he was in the colder climate.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night, and not just entirely because Viktor was snoring a bit.

She was having the dream again, running across blood-soaked mud, the air thick with the acrid taste of spellfire and smoke.

Hogwarts was ahead of her, the Forbidden Forest behind her, and she was being chased by someone… Multiple someones, possibly.

She was screaming out again, reaching out a hand towards a person in a black cloak, their name ripping from her throat as she tried to get their attention while everything around her lit up in blue and green-

-and she was being shaken awake, a gentle hand holding down her wrist and arm as she tried to strike out, the other cupping her cheek as her ‘captor’ tried to calm her down again.

“It is just me, my Hermione. Your Viktor. You are not in harm here. Deep breath. Again… In and out…”

Hermione blinked owlishly up at him before what was happening caught up with her and she started to relax again, licking her lips as she moved to sit up and rest back against the headboard.

“...sorry… bad dream.”

“I had gathered this much, yes. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head.

“I believe you were saying my name in your dream,” He murmured, reaching to carefully take one of her hands into both of his. “...are you _sure_ this was a bad dream?”

She attempted a smile at that, though it didn’t reach her eyes and she was nodding in confirmation.

“I’ve had it before. I-I think the Strain is trying to tell me something…”

“You think it is bad?”

Another nod. “I think it is _very_ bad, actually.”

Viktor fell quiet for a moment at that, his dark eyes searching hers for something before he gave a nod of his own.

“Then I shall endeavour to help you make it less bad, yes?”

Hermione was in his arms an instant later, quietly thanking him even if a part of her somehow seemed to know that there wasn’t going to be any help coming.

Not for this one, whatever it was.

She kept those thoughts to herself, however, even long after they’d gone back to bed and then roused the next morning to get ready for their trip to Dumrstrang, her hands shaking slightly with the cold as she tried to get dressed in the clothes Viktor had bought for her when attempting to transfigure her clothing into furs hadn’t exactly worked out.

Even the warming charms she’d cast over herself didn’t seem to be quite enough for the biting cold around them, and it made Hermione long for Scotland and Hogwarts and her warm bed in the Avila chambers…

But she was a big girl. She could do this.

Surprisingly, Durmstrang was close enough to the inn in which they’d been staying that the couple were able to acquire a carriage to take them up to the school, and Hermione had no problems curling up against Viktor’s side as she looked out the window at the scenery around them.

It was beautiful, certainly, but she wasn’t sure if she would’ve enjoyed spending the entirety of her schooling there.

Not that she would’ve been invited, not as a Muggleborn student, but semantics.

The grounds surrounding Durmstrang were vast, wild and wooded with numerous lakes around, and Hermione was sure that she could see the traveling ship the school had used three years ago to come to Hogwarts floating off on the far side of one of those lakes.

When the castle itself came into view, however, it had her entire attention.

Viktor had told her about it, of course, but she still wasn’t entirely prepared for the sight of it. Sure, it was smaller than Hogwarts, but it was still a castle, and one that looked rich and dark and foreboding and somehow still strangely welcoming all at once.

When the carriage came to a stop just outside of the main entrance, Hermione waited while Viktor climbed out, her hand trembling slightly in his as he helped her out as well, and she was glad that he pulled her in close to help her inside after he’d paid the driver.

They were greeted at the door by a wizard who couldn’t have been more than a year or so older than them, a man Viktor clearly knew by the way he suddenly laughed and boomed out a greeting.

The following conversation happened entirely in a language Hermione couldn’t follow - possibly Russian - but she smiled when Viktor turned to look at her and did her best not to look too terribly embarrassed or out of sorts.

It wasn’t long, though, before the duo switched back to English, and Viktor was making introductions.

“My Hermione, this is Xavier Romanoff. He is deputy headmaster here at Durmstrang, and will be our guide today. Since the students have all gone home for the holidays, there are parts of the castle that have been marked as off limits while structural spells are reinforced, and Xavier is going to ensure we do not accidentally wander into someplace we should not be going.”

Hermione gave a nod of understanding before turning to tell Xavier thank you and introduce herself to him, a bit shocked when he reached out to take her hand and then press his lips against the knuckles.

She wasn’t going to give it much thought though, all things considered, and it wasn’t long before she’d put it behind her so she could follow along the path towards the library.

If she’d thought Durmstrang had been exciting to look at just from an outside perspective, it was nothing compared to the vastness of the library they’d been ushered into.

Hermione didn’t think it was possible, but Durmstrang’s library put Hogwarts’ to shame.

“...I-I don’t even know where to begin…” She muttered, her eyes going wide as she stepped away from Viktor and slowly began to spin in place to try and take in everything around her.

“Usually at the beginning is a good place,” He teased back, watching her twirl even if she wasn’t aware of him doing it.

“Where’s your restricted section?”

“We do not have one here,” Viktor clarified with a small shake of his head. “You forget, the Dark Arts are taught here at Durmstrang, and it has always been believed that forewarned is forearmed, and that it is the responsibility of the student to research things within a matter that is productive and conducive to their living in society, not just for the benefit of the whole.”

“So, ho-how do you find a book you’re looking for?”

“Every subject has its own dedicated section within the library,” Viktor was explaining, even as he led her down a random aisle so he could demonstrate.

“Here, for example, is the section on duelling. I spent many hours here as a student,” He chuckled before reaching up to grab a book off a shelf. “But unlike your library, this one is enchanted with expanding charms to allow many many more books to be held in a smaller space.”

Hermione could feel her eyes go wide with the prospect, and she looked around her suddenly in wonder.

“...perhaps I should ask if we can eat our meals here today-” He quietly chuckled. “-for I think you are not going to be leaving here all that willingly…”

Hermione couldn’t verbally answer, though she did give a faint nod of her head even as she wandered off to try and figure out where to begin.

Eventually, she found a section on curses and jinxes and hexes that specifically dealt with freezing charms, and she had a pile of books stacked around her at one table while she scoured the contents trying to find anything that might’ve pertained to her current situation.

It was in one of those books that she finally found what might’ve been a clue, though it struck her with more dread than it did hope.

“What is it, my Hermione?” Viktor asked as he looked up from the book he was reading through on wandless magic.

“I-I think I’m being haunted…”

Viktor looked confused again, setting his book aside as he leaned closer towards her.

“Please explain.”

“This bit here-” She turned the book around to show him the passage she meant, pointing to it with her index finger. “-it talks about some of the things I’ve experienced with the freezing cold, and the feelings of being watched.”

“Yes, but I do not follow as to how it means you are haunted.”

Hermione sighed, before pulling another book towards her and flipping back to the passage she’d read in it earlier.

“This book deals more with psychic hexes, and while it doesn’t specifically talk about freezing spells, the principle could theoretically still be applied if someone well-versed enough in the Dark Arts applied these two principles together.”

“It would take a _very_ powerful practitioner to do so,” Viktor murmured after he’d read over both of the passages for himself.

“These two methods, you see, they use counteractive types of spellcasting.” Viktor had turned the books back around to face her before suddenly climbing to his feet, still talking as he headed off to find a couple of other books to reference his point.

“You see, what you are not taught at Hogwarts is that magic comes in more than just two forms. Yes, there is Dark and Light magic, but there are many shades of grey in between as well.”

“You’re talking about how a healing charm could be used in a dark way if the spellcaster say, closed up an external wound while doing nothing about the internal ones?”

“That is one form, yes, but-” Viktor was walking back towards her with two books in hand and a few more following behind him. “-I am more referencing the various schools of spellcasting.”

“...I don’t follow.”

Viktor muttered something in Bulgarian then under his breath that Hermione was able to translate roughly as meaning ‘damn English’ but she wasn’t sure if he was referencing the language or the people, and kept quiet to let him try and explain.

“I believe that at Hogwarts, you are taught the Latin and Greek versions of magic, which was heavily influenced by the original workings of Persia. It is why many of your spells have Latin and Greek origins.”

“Okay, I can follow that bit…”

“But not all magic comes from there. Do you think they teach Latin and Greek based spells in China? In Africa?”

Hermione sat back in her chair at that, having realized that she’d never really entertained the thought before.

“You see, my Hermione, here at Durmstrang we are taught that spells can come from anywhere there is magic, but often those spells work differently because the spell _caster_ learns based on their origin.”

“So, a person casting a levitation charm in China would do so very differently from the way you or I would?”

“Yes, you are understanding, now,” He agreed with a grin before pointing back at the books she’d originally been referencing.

“This book on psychic hexes, it deals with spellcasting from the Mongolian tradition. It has similarities to other Asian practices, but is unique in that it is more grounded in the Earth. Whereas this-” He pointed to the book on freezing hexes she’d also been regarding. “-is much more similar to your Latin magicks. They _can_ work together, but not easily, as they draw their power from different sources.”

“You said similar…” Hermione murmured, eyebrows drawn together somewhat as she lifted her gaze to meet his. “...but is this-” She pointed at the freezing hex. “- _not_ Latin based?”

“Not entirely, no. I believe it comes from Australia, which carries a more unique tradition that blended Aboriginal magicks with the Latin ones that came when the English settled there.”

“Well… Shit.”

“There is much you are not taught at Hogwarts, I am afraid.”

“I’m starting to realize that, yes…” She certainly looked bewildered, and knew it was easy to read all over her features.

“But, that means it might be easier to figure out who might be attacking me, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps, yes,” Viktor agreed again with another little nod. “While I am sure there are many who have studied the theoretics of this sort of magick mixing, far fewer would attempt to actually do so, as the results could be disastrous if mixed improperly.”

Hermione sighed at that, the implications of what she was learning finally starting to really hit her.

“...how am I going to combat this, Viktor, if I don’t even know for sure what the rules are?”

“I believe, perhaps, that is why I am here. To help you where you can not help yourself, my Hermione.”

It was a relief, but something inside of her was still crying, and not entirely just in frustration.

Because Viktor was a good man, yes. But was he good enough to handle _this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to two of y'all - you know who you are - who encouraged this literal beast. I hope you enjoy it!  
> Next chapter will probably see Hermione's return to Hogwarts after her little holiday where she'll get to start researching what she's learned at Durmstrang.  
> As always, a very special thank you to all of you who have read and commented and kudos'd thus far. All of you mean the world to me, and you're the reason I keep doing this.  
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you want to come yell at me or anything :)


	18. Chapter 17: Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has an unlikely companion on the train ride back to Hogwarts, but the conversation certainly doesn't lack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the last chapter was a beast, but y'all? Y'all. This one is even moreso.

The next few days were spent traveling back and forth to Durmstrang while Hermione took copious notes on, well… Everything. She read all the books she could, trying to take in as much information as she could before she had to return to Hogwarts and a library that wouldn’t be able to answer the questions she now sought.

Viktor aided her as best as he could, explaining things when she needed him to about non-Western magical theories, but there were still areas in which he wasn’t as well-versed as she would’ve liked.

The nights though, were spent with him reminding her that there was more to life than the pursuit of all things academic, and she had to admit that he had a few _really_ good points on the subject.

_Is this love?_ She asked herself as she awoke early on their last morning there. Neither of them had said the word yet, but it felt like it.

Hermione certainly didn’t have another word for what she was feeling, so what else _could_ it be?

But there was still that feeling, right at the tip of her fingers when he took his hand in hers, that something wasn’t quite right. That his hand wasn’t the one she was supposed to be holding...

She pushed it aside, though, since she certainly had more important things to think about.

Like, figuring out what was happening to her.

The Strain, also, seemed keen on the subject, and kept steering her down new paths, guiding her towards hexes and charms that had seemingly nothing to do with her problems, but which - as she learned the more she studied them - could certainly be adapted if the spellcaster was strong and committed enough.

“...a burning hex?” Viktor asked that last night over dinner, as the two of them sat in front of the fire in their suite and nibbled on the remains of a roasted chicken.

“I can’t say for certain, but all of the symptoms fit, just… Sort of in reverse?”

“I have not seen any blisters on your skin, my Hermione,” He suddenly chuckled. “And I have seen every inch of you over these last few days, methinks.”

She blushed but kept going. “No, but you did comment on that red patch on my left ankle last night. It’s sort of a burn mark, isn’t it? Or a hypothermia mark, as it were?”

Viktor tilted his head slightly to the side in thought at that, and Hermione was struck in that moment by how familiar the gesture looked, but she couldn’t quite place _why_.

“It does seem fitting, now that you describe it, but I want to stress to you that this is the sort of magick that very few would be foolish enough - or even powerful enough - to attempt. This sort of magick… It is very dark. There must be nothing but contempt in his heart for a man to cast this.”

“I’m a Mudblood, Viktor,” Hermione murmured in response. “Contempt is… Something I’ve had a lot of dealings with for a while now.”

She wouldn’t hear his rebuttals on the subject, though it certainly made her feel a bit more reassured that the feeling she couldn’t quite name was just as serious as she suspected it was.

The next morning they returned to the place he’d rented in London, and Hermione spent most of the day thanking him privately for allowing her to change their holiday plans, doing so one more time the next morning before they got ready and he escorted her back to King’s Cross so she could catch the Express back to reality.

His parting kiss said what neither of them could voice yet, and Hermione’s footsteps were a bit lighter as she crossed the barrier and lost sight of him behind her.

And walked straight into a familiar black-clad figure.

“Oh, Professor Snape! I’m so sorry, sir!”

“...Miss Granger.”

Hermione offered him a small smile - and was unsurprised when he didn’t return it - before gathering up her things again and heading towards the train. It wouldn’t be long before they needed to board anyway, and she wanted to get settled so she could go over her notes and see if she could further connect any of the dots she’d discovered during her time at Durmstrang now that she’d had a couple of nights to sleep on it.

She had just settled in and had spread out her notes before her when a knock came to her cabin door, and she lifted her head towards the sound with a small smile on her face…

...only for it to turn into a look of surprise when she saw the person standing there.

“Professor Snape! Hello again!”

“May I join you, Miss Granger?”

“Of course, sir!” Hermione waved him in, moving to shuffle some of her papers back together and move them closer to her while he took a seat across from her, one of his eyebrows arching as he glanced over her work.

“...I take it you had a productive holiday then, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir, I did,” Hermione clarified. “Viktor took me to Durmstrang so I could make use of its library.”

“While Hogwarts boasts having one of the best magickal libraries in the Wizarding World-” Snape agreed with a nod. “-you won’t find one with more information about the Dark Arts than Durmstrang.”

“It was an eye-opening experience, to be sure.”

“I hope you didn’t spend the _entirety_ of your break with your nose in a book, though? Surely your parents would’ve wanted to spend time with you and your paramore?”

Hermione’s look faltered slightly at that, and she looked down at her papers as she shuffled them again and tried to blink away the sudden wetness in her eyes.

“...my parents are in Australia, sir.”

Snape frowned at that. “I’m not following, Miss Granger.”

“My parents are _living_ in Australia, now, sir. I um…” She took a deep breath before lifting her gaze again to meet his. “...I haven’t seen them in a few years, now.”

“I know you are attempting to clarify, Hermione, but I’m afraid you’ve only failed to make things murkier.”

“I Obliviated them after Fourth Year and planted the idea in their head that they needed to move to Australia,” She sighed, letting the truth pour out of her as quickly as she could so she could continue to try and keep herself from crying. “They have no idea that they even _have_ a daughter, let alone that I’m her, and they have no desire to return to England since they made enough money off their dental practice to retire early and spend the rest of their days living in quiet luxury in Sydney.”

Snape was quiet for a long moment following, and was remarkably still even before he slowly moved to produce a handkerchief from somewhere in his robes and handed it over to her.

“...you’ve been alone for a few years now, then?”

“Yes, sir,” She sniffed, thanking him for the hanky before she dabbed at her eyes with it. “When I’m at school, it’s easy to forget that they aren’t at home waiting for me, but…”

“But when you’re _not_ there… I understand. It must be difficult for you. I am… Surprised that you’re just now talking about it.”

Hermione shrugged at that, sniffing slightly but she cast a quick cleansing charm on the hanky before she handed it back to Snape.

“I sort of thought that it was best to keep it to myself. The fewer people that knew what I’d done meant that fewer people could potentially track them down and hurt them.”

“How many people _do_ know, if I might ask?”

“...four, including the two of us.”

“You’ve only trusted three people with this information?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve learned that trust isn’t the sort of thing that should come easily these days.”

Snape paused for a moment to consider what she’d said, nodding slightly even as he tilted his head slightly to the side in thought. “I’d call you foolish for trusting me, but in a way I am… Touched.”

_Why does that gesture look so familiar to me?_

“Who else knows, Miss Granger?”

“Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, sir. I asked the latter to teach me the spell, and naturally had to tell him the reason why. Professor McGonagall… Went with me when I went to cast it. A show of support mostly, but also considering I was still underage at the time, she went with me as a sort of shield from the Ministry.”

“They’re good people to trust, Miss Granger. You can be safe in that knowledge.”

Hermione offered Snape a watery smile at that. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now, if you don’t mind-” He shifted in his seat a bit to sit up straighter, leaning forward a bit so he could put his elbows down on the table and steeple his fingers in front of his lips. “-I’d like to hear about your research and see if we can learn anything else from what you’ve taken notes on.”

Hermione was thankful for the change in topic, and was quick to hand over her notes to him so he could begin assessing them for himself while she gave him a quick overview.

He was more or less caught up by the time the snack trolley arrived, and he ordered a pot of tea and some scones for both of them, ignoring the look that the trolley cart lady was giving them for seeing a student and a professor - and _this_ professor in particular - sitting in a carriage cart together.

After she’d left, Snape conjured up a quill from somewhere and began making some notes in the margins of hers, though he was speaking aloud to her as he did so.

“This part here, about the burning hex-”

“I referenced it again…” She started thumbing through her notes before she found the paper she was looking for. “... _here_. I also commented on the possibility that the curse that might be afflicting me is more of a burning hex in reverse.”

He nodded at that. “I lean towards perhaps agreeing with you, though I also agree with your notes that doing that sort of magic, and combining the schools of thoughts to do so, would be exceedingly difficult.”

“It was something Viktor was talking about-” Hermione clarified. “-though, I’ll admit, he couldn’t go into as much detail about the various theories as I would’ve liked, but time wasn’t exactly on our side.”

“I have a handful of books in my office on the subject that might be of service to you. I’ve… Learned quite a bit on the subject myself over the years, though I know I’m not the only one in the Dark Lord’s inner circle to have done so.”

“Do you think it’s a Death Eater, then?” Hermione asked, voice dropping to a lower murmur despite the silencing charms Snape had previously cast to keep from being overheard.

“The possibility had crossed my mind,” He confirmed with a nod. “But I have no way to prove the theory just yet. There’s also the matter of how he or she could’ve gotten into Hogwarts unnoticed, or cast any of these spells undetected.”

“But I thought Hogwarts was only warded against Unforgivables?”

“That was true at one point in time, yes.” Snape was nodding again, still rifling through her papers as he sought something in particular, pulling it out and putting it down in front of her to help make his point once he’d found it.

“But, after your fifth year and all of _those_ disastrous happenings, we decided as a faculty to start changing some of the wards to include more forms of Dark Magic. We should be alerted every time someone casts something that could be potentially harmful to another person.”

“How can you tell, though? What would be the difference between this person casting whatever they cast on me, and Ginny casting a Bag Bogey hex on Seamus when he makes a smart remark about her appearance?”

“...there’s something of a learning curve with it, to be sure. Miss Weasley does have a bit of a propensity for nose-related hexes.”

Hermione snorted, but certainly didn’t disagree, though she sobered again a moment later.

“So, what you’re saying is that no alert went out when this… Whatever it was was cast onto me?”

“Unfortunately, yes, that _is_ what I’m saying, Miss Granger, and it’s worrisome.”

She lifted a hand to rub at her temple, resisting the urge to tug at a couple of stray curls that had fallen out of her braid.

“Well, that would mean that, whatever the curse is and whatever it actually does - which we clearly know because I’m experiencing it - it isn’t inherently dark, and we can assume that, since it didn’t set off the wards, it wasn’t cast with particularly dark intents, correct?”

“It’s the only theory we have to work on, yes, though I don’t like it.”

“I’m not saying I do either,” Hermione agreed, and she idly cast another warming charm over herself, more out of habit than anything else. “As clearly the effects are negative on my person, but… What if it wasn’t _supposed_ to be?”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me again, Miss Granger.”

“Maybe I’m way off the mark, I’m not sure, but…” She shook her head, flopping back against her seat for a moment as she pulled her tea close for a sip, looking more contemplative all of a sudden as she tried to focus her thoughts on whatever string she’d just grasped at.  
“-I read something while at Durmstrang, and it got me to thinking - albeit briefly - about possessions and hauntings and whatnot. And Viktor brought up a good point about the Strain that I hadn’t contemplated before that, but… Have I mentioned before how it talks to me?”

“You have.”

“And you don’t find that odd in the slightest?”

“Why should I?”

“Because as far as anyone knows, it’s _just_ an Arithmancy equation. How is it sentient? How can it communicate with me?”

Snape paused again at that - and there was that head tilt again - his eyebrows drawing together a bit as he thought over what she’d just said.

“Did Vector ever say anything to you about it communicating with her?”

“No, sir, she didn’t. Though, I’ve never thought to ask either.”

“Be sure to do so as soon as we return to Hogwarts. I’d be exceedingly curious to know her answer.”

Hermione nodded again before continuing. “So, if we start working with the theory that the Strain is more than just an Equation - which, again, we can infer easily enough - and we suppose that whatever sort of curse or spell or what-have-you that was cast upon me wasn’t necessarily done maliciously-”

“We can perhaps infer that the person who did it might not have intended for it to be harmful, but perhaps miscalculated?” Snape was nodding, though Hermione wasn’t sure if it was entirely in agreement or just in thought.

“What if it was supposed to be something to just, I don’t know, slow me down? Like a modified Impedimenta?”

“Why would someone want to slow you down?”

Hermione shrugged again, clearly not sure, but put forth a guess anyway. “Maybe to make me concentrate more on the Strain? I’m a seventh year, so obviously I’ve got a considerable amount on my plate. Maybe whoever cast it thinks I’m spending too much time on ‘frivolous’ things as opposed to what they think I should be working on?”

Snape was clearly considering her response, but he shook his head after a long moment.

“There’s simply too much going on at this point to determine for sure, I’m afraid. Your theory carries merit, of course, but…” He arched an eyebrow, still thinking about all of the angles. “...it’s possible it wasn’t malicious just as much as it’s possible it _was_.”

Hermione pulled her tea closer to her again at that, giving him a nod over the top of her cup. “Of course, I just… I have to wonder.”

“You’re a naturally curious person, Miss Granger,” Snape agreed, leaning back in his own seat as he crossed a leg over the other. “I’m not surprised that you would be curious about something that has become so deeply personal for you.”

“I feel like it’s more than that, though, sir. I just… I want to figure out what’s happening to me, of course, but I also feel like I need to figure out _why_ just in case this happens to someone else.”

“You mean should Avila appear again in the future?”

Hermione nodded. “The Strain has shared some of its past with me. I can’t explain it-” She was quick to clarify before Snape could ask. “-but I know it’s been here sort of since the beginning, and I get the sense that it’ll be here for quite a while after.”

Snape nodded that. “Avila was always the silent house, the house that would only appear during times of great strife.”

“Do you think it’s curious, sir-” Hermione suddenly asked, voicing a question that had been plaguing her for a while now. “-that Avila never showed itself during the time you were a student?”

“It _is_ something I’ve been thinking about, but there is a part of me that wonders if there were not enough strong people available. We were divided, for sure, but it was a much… _Quieter_ sort of division.”

“How so?”

Snape settled more into his seat then, slipping into what Hermione had come to learn as his lecturing mode, his voice still a low murmur as he started to speak.

“The Dark Lord was just beginning to amass his followers when I started at Hogwarts, much in the same way that the Headmaster had just started to bring in recruits for the Order. There were whispers about each, of course, but it was the sort of thing talked about behind covered hands in the shadows of hallways. It wasn’t until later in my schooling that things became… Much more open, but even then, things were only discussed amongst trusted individuals.”

“Things came to more of a head in my last couple of years and then immediately after I graduated. I was pursuing my Mastery at the same time, so I was not as aware of things that were happening at the castle, but there were students still present who would’ve been eager to share the sudden presence of a new house with the Dark Lord should it have appeared.”

“But that still doesn’t quite explain why it _didn’t_ , sir.”

Snape shrugged, though there was a note of something that Hermione could only describe as **pride** in his dark gaze when he turned it back towards her.

“Perhaps none of us were strong enough then to fight what was happening. Perhaps Avila knew that emerging then would’ve been for nought.”

“...do you really believe that, sir?”

“I think that, while the old adage of ‘learn from the mistakes of our forefathers’ is certainly true, I also believe that we could stand to learn a thing or two from our descendants.”

Something in Hermione hummed at that, and there was a familiar tingling sensation suddenly in her fingertips, and she glanced down to see hints of blue flames dancing at them.

“...I think the Strain agrees with you, sir.”

Snape fell quiet again for a moment, clearly contemplating the sight before him before he held his hand out towards her suddenly.

“Please forgive this odd request, but may I see your hand, Miss Granger?”

It _was_ odd, but Hermione gave a nod, extending her hand so that Snape could gently pull it closer for a look.

Her hand warmed at the touch, a sudden relief from the cold that Hermione felt so acutely she almost gasped, but instead bit back the sound by chomping down on her lower lip.

“...does it hurt when it does this?” He was gesturing at the flames still dancing about her fingertips.

“No, sir,” She murmured with a shake of her head. “It just sort of tingles. Sort of like that feeling when your foot has just fallen asleep, but it doesn’t have that pins and needles feeling afterwards.”

“A small blessing, I’m sure.”

“It’s much easier to control now,” Hermione began to elaborate, willing the flames up her arm a bit and watching as they listened to her command. “Sometimes it still does odd things that I can’t understand, but overall the bond is considerably more harmonious.”

Snape withdrew is hand then, and Hermione felt the cold rush back into her fingers immediately, pulling the appendage closer again so she could once more wrap it back around her warm teacup.

“You spoke earlier about it speaking to you, and I’ve been contemplating that as we’ve discussed other things. While it doesn’t make sense for the Strain to be sentient, there _is_ a particular school of thought - I believe it originated in South America - that suggests that magick is more than what we’ve believed it to be.”

“How so?”

“Consider your wand, Miss Granger, and how it is attuned to you. It channels your magick and allows you to cast your spells with as much power as you yourself are capable of. If I were to use it, however, it would not work as effectively, because it wouldn’t channel my magick in the same way.”

“So, following that logic, we could hypothesize that magick almost caters itself to the individual user?”

“Indeed. Our wands are an extension of who we are, and therefore how we are able to interact with the magick around us.”

Hermione was slowly nodding in understanding, another thought starting to dawn on her.

“This ties in with how it’s easier for some to mix their magicks than others, doesn’t it?”

“I believe it does, yes. As I mentioned when you first started researching the subject, mixing magicks requires a certain amount of trust between the wielders. Trust is easier to gain amongst those who think as we do, who have similar thoughts on magick and how it can and _should_ be wielded.”

“So, the Strain-” Hermione continued. “-can perhaps speak to me because I have a similar form of magick as its original steward? As _all_ of its stewards?”

“I can draw no other conclusions at this time, Miss Granger. Make of that what you will.”

“...I think I need to start researching other things when we get back to Hogwarts, sir.”

“Just remember-” Snape noted with a small chuckle. “-that Madame Pince isn’t as lenient about food in the library as the staff at Durmstrang is.

Hermione smirked suddenly at that. “What Madame Pince doesn’t know won’t hurt her, sir.”

Snape’s smirk suddenly matched her own. “...perhaps you _would’ve_ done well in Slytherin, Miss Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to all of you for continuing to stick with this. I have something... A little bit different possibly for the next chapter. Probably gonna be a bit of a timeskip, actually, to help further the story along a bit. Hope that's okay!
> 
> As always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you want to yell at me about things :P


	19. Chapter 18: Budding Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a conversation with Professor Vector, and ends up coming to a couple of startling conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies about the delay in this chapter, y'all. I struggled a bit with it, but I think I'm finally happy with it?

Hermione settled back into her school life with relative ease, though knowing what she did made things a touch trickier when it came to how she was going to proceed for the rest of the semester.

If she truly _was_ being cursed, she needed to find the anti-jinx. If she wasn’t, she needed to figure out why she was feeling the way she was.

It was all terribly complicated, and she sort of wished she really could see into the future - and not just in the snippets of scenes that the Strain continued to show her.

While she didn’t have anymore attacks from unseen foes, Hermione found that January was a terrible month to be freezing to death from the inside out, and she spent more time than she wanted to admit curled up in a hot bath most days just trying to relieve some of the ache that had settled into her joints.

February dawned much in the same way in which Hogwarts had spent January, with snow and ice all about them, though as the days bled into weeks and March started to come upon them, Hermione was relieved to note that the growing warmth of the days was something of a relief to her predicament. She was still terribly chilled, but at least she didn’t have to cast warming charms on her person every half hour or so just to function.

They were well and truly into March when the first disaster struck.

Someone - or some _ones_ \- had broken into the Ministry and stolen something from Dolores Umbridge.

While Hermione held no love in her heart for that particular toad of a woman, the simple knowledge that she’d been robbed was enough to make Hermione’s heart hurt.

Because, of course, she knew just who had done the robbing.

She spent the better part of an hour ranting and raving in Snape’s office about the idiocy of boys, cursing how Ron and Harry could’ve been so stupid - a point which Snape seemed keen to not try and counter - and while of course she could make assumptions about _why_ they’d broken into the Ministry, Hermione was far more perplexed about the _how_.

Eventually, she’d ranted enough that she was able to have an actual conversation with her head of house on the matter.

“So, you don’t suspect them of having used Polyjuice?”

“You and I both know that neither of those boys have the potions credentials to brew it, sir,” Hermione replied, her tone somehow both smug and criticizing, and Snape let out a small bark of laughter at her reply.

“I had to grade their essays, Miss Granger,” He replied, his amusement still evident in his voice. “You’re not exactly telling me anything I didn’t already know.”

“I suppose they could’ve used a few concealment charms… Maybe something cosmetic?”

“Perhaps, though how they got into Umbridge’s office is another matter entirely. I’ve come to understand it’s heavily guarded.”

Hermione shrugged at that, rolling her eyes a bit as she replied. “Knowing Harry, he charmed a house elf and got it to retrieve the item for him.”

Snape arched an eyebrow at that, but again, didn’t try to counter. “Have you been able to ascertain what the item might’ve been?”

“Maybe?” Hermione gave a small shake of her head. “There was a write-up in the _Prophet_ about Umbridge back before Christmas, and she was wearing this… Weird necklace. It had a large S on the front of it… She said something about it being a family heirloom?”

She shook her head again. “The ‘s’ is what stood out to me, to be honest. Maybe it has something to do with Slytherin? We know He Who Must Not Be Named has a thing for his founder…”

“The Dark Lord was keen on Hogwarts history, I know that much to be true, but I could not tell you with certainty just how far that interest went.”

Hermione gave a small nod at that, and the conversation soon became more speculative than anything else, and eventually she took her leave of her head of house so she could do a bit of thinking on her own.

The Strain, at least, provided an easy distraction, and it was easy enough to put thoughts about the boys on the back burner of her brain to simmer on their own while she plucked and prodded at the numbers before her.

It was becoming easier with each day to read what was in front of her, and she’d started making notes on the patterns she was detecting, and had set up a sort of rough timeline for events that would lead up to what she could only presume was the final battle.

It was what she’d been dreaming about since taking on the Strain, after all, and there didn’t seem to be any further computations to study after that point. Maybe she was making faulty assumptions, but the evidence was fairly clear at this point.

There was to be a final battle - though as of yet, there was no way for her to tell for certain who the winner was going to be - and then… That was it. The Strain simply _stopped._

“But there’s no way to determine who the winner is?” Vector was asking her a couple of days after the Ministry break in while the two of them sat in her office discussing theories.

“Not that I’ve been able to ascertain yet, no ma’am. It’s like…” Hermione waved her hands suddenly in front of herself. “Well, here, let me show you.”

The Strain sprang forth suddenly, and Vector rolled her stool back just a hint as it did so, a familiar determined look setting into her gaze as she assessed the equation before her.

“I can separate out individuals with much greater ease now, but every day - sometimes once, sometimes more frequently - lines shift and change and wrap around each other or uncoil completely.”

“A butterfly flaps its wings…”

Hermione gave a nod of agreement. “Something like that, yes ma’am. Certain aspects are becoming more solidified, but others still are becoming murkier. I can give you the day it’ll start, and can tell you that it’ll most likely happen in the morning, probably not long after sunup, but I’m not sure what else I can say at this point.”

“It’s a start. A big one, and an advantage at that.” Vector gave a nod, though her attention returned to Hermione when she suddenly had a violent shiver run through her, causing her to reach for her wand while Vector looked on in concern.

“...still having some problems then, I see.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione agreed with a small nod, though she fell silent for a moment while she waited for her latest warming charm to take hold.

They never did quite manage to make it to the tips of her fingers or toes, though….

“...some days are easier than others. With the weather getting warmer, I don’t seem to have as many chills, though the ones I _do_ have are a bit more violent.”

“Do you think it’s at all connected to your work on the Strain?”

“I hadn’t dismissed it, if we’re being honest, though I also wonder if it’s worse when I’m _not_ working on the Strain.”

“You mentioned before that it spoke to you, as if it were sentient. Do you think _it’s_ causing your problems?”

Hermione shook her head at that question, and felt a little tingle run up her spine in response. “No, ma’am. If anything, the Strain has proven over and over again that it’s trying to protect me. I can’t imagine it would be doing something that would cause any sort of detriment to my person.”

Vector hummed at that before returning her attention to the floating orb in question.

“Will you humor me and theorize for a bit, Granger?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“For starters, going forward, when we’re alone I’d like for you to call me Tima. I’m not really your professor anymore, Granger, and this sort of work… It’s going to put us very close together, I think.”

Hermione looked surprised, but gave a nod of agreement, wondering internally how quickly she was going to bugger this up.

“Alright, so… Running on the supposition that the final battle will happen at or around dawn of the Summer Solstice, we can probably extrapolate key players, even if we can’t yet ascertain the ending.”

“Agreed, and if you give me a moment...” Hermione closed her eyes and waved her wand for a moment in a complicated gesture that somehow the Strain itself was showing her how to properly cast. “...there we are.”

There appeared to be a smaller Strain now floating in front of them, having separated itself from the main equation which had moved to hover over to the side.

“...is that the final battle?”

Hermione nodded. “It’s what the Strain says are the key players for that day.”

Vector looked impressed and had risen to her feet so that she could walk around this new orb.

“So… Key players, but… That’s not everyone who will _be_ there that day, obviously.”

Hermione blinked at that. “Well, no…”

“So, if we go on _that_ supposition, it’s possible that the reason we don’t know the outcome yet is because a non-key person does one thing in the moment that changes everything.”

“...would that then make this individual a key player?”

“Possibly, but it’s going to be someone insignificant to everything else. Have you had anyone you haven’t been able t-”

“-to identify yet within the equation? Yes ma’- sorry! Tima…”

It felt _weird_ saying that.

“How many someones at this point?”

“Three.”

“Probably lower-ranking Death Eaters, then, and there’s no telling how many of those there are at this point.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Hermione once again agreed with a nod. “I’ve been able to identify everyone on our side, at least.”

“Which means that our side isn’t the rogue.” Vector hummed again before continuing. “Can you separate our side out from theirs?”

“It’s tricky; give me a moment…”

But, slowly, and with a few more deliberate wand movements, the smaller orb split itself in two, though the orbs moved and flitted about one another, almost as if they were dancing.

“...they don’t like being separated.”

“Not when they’re so dependent on one another, no,” Vector murmured, pursing her lips slightly in thought, though she squinted suddenly before leaning forward, pointing at a thin, silvery wisp of a tendril that had appeared between the two orbs.

“See? There… Even when you force them apart-”

“-they stay connected.”

But it was Hermione’s turn to squint suddenly, to make another calculated wand movement before the fragments that had reached out towards one another were pulled out by themselves, the two immediately wrapping and twisting around one another, though they never _quite_ became anything as cohesive as an orb.

“...th-that’s Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“It makes sense,” Vector replied, though her tone had turned into something a bit more wary. “Naturally they’d be at the heart of this.”

“This says they’re more than that, Tima. That they’re actually _connected_.”

“But connected _how_ , Granger?”

Hermione was thinking back to one of her earlier conversations with Snape about Harry: about the way he was starting to act, how things had changed… Snape had made a suggestion then, and as much as Hermione hadn’t been ready to accept it then-

-the evidence was _clearly_ before her now.

“...neither can live while the other survives…”

“All right, now you’re talking in riddles intentionally.”

“No, just… Putting pieces together. Pieces of the puzzle that I didn’t want to see, but… Here they are.”

“What sort of puzzle pieces?”

“The sort that might make things exceedingly difficult, if I’m being completely honest.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I’m not sure _how_ , Tima, not without making you think that I am _absolutely_ bonkers.”

“I already think that, Granger,” Vector tried to tease, though it fell a little flat given the overall tone in the room suddenly. “But I suppose that’s fair enough.”

Hermione had some things to think about.

Things that she was contemplating while sitting in her room later that night, propped up against the headboard of her four poster with a couple of blankets tucked around her legs, another draped across her shoulders and Crookshanks happily purring away on top of her feet.

The Strain was once more floating lazily before her, happy and whole again after she’d let it reassemble itself the way it wanted.

“What am I missing…?”

_I could show you._

“You mean… You mean you _know?_ ”

_I know every possible scenario. The good and the bad._

“That’s why you can’t settle on any one outcome, isn’t it? They’re all still technically possible at this point.”

_Not all of them. But most of them, yes._

“Are there any that are more likely than the others?”

_Naturally. Would you like me to show you one of them?_

“But _how_ do you know?”

_You know what I am, child. You’ve known it since the beginning._

Hermione paused for a moment, thinking the offer over. “Is it the same one you’ve been showing me since the beginning?”

 _It is. But you do not yet understand it, do you? You do not yet understand what it **means**_.

“...then show me. Help me understand.”

And then everything around Hermione went dark, but it was with a softness, almost like a caress of a hand against her cheek… Like… Like a mother’s touch?

When she came to, it was clear that she was dreaming - or maybe remembering? But how could she remember something that hadn’t happened yet? - but everything around her was overly clear, like something out of a fairy tale.

There was almost a sheen to the air, though it was also thick with the acrid taste and smell of spell smoke, and Hermione looked frantically about her suddenly, hearing a noise from somewhere off in the distance…

A sound that was getting closer.

The sound of footsteps. Dozens of them. _Hundreds_ of them. Approaching from the Forest.

But they were coming from the side opposite Hogsmeade? They hadn’t attacked the village first, then? The wards didn’t extend far enough…

The field she was in though… It was strangely empty… Where _was_ everyone? Why weren’t there others around her?

No bodies, no wounded, no soldiers struggling to stay on their feet as they assessed the damage… Were they at the castle?

Why was she alone?

 _Was_ she alone?

There was someone carefully approaching… All in black-

No. They were wearing a black cloak, but they were wearing red robes… A woman, judging by the hints of curves she could make out from this distance.

The woman lifted her head towards Hermione, called out her name, but just as Hermione was about to reply, the first of those figures from the woods emerged, and Hermione froze for a moment, her words freezing in her throat just as a terrible _aching_ cold swept over her.

But, somehow, she managed to turn, managed to stumble through the mud towards the figure, a figure that was lifting their wand into a defensive position, just as their hood dropped, and Hermione realized who she was looking at, screaming out her name-

-a name she still couldn’t make out… Just that ‘v’ again…

It was fading, but Hermione was saying something to her, telling her to run, and the two of them reached out to one another, hands clasping arms as they both tried to turn when a terrible green light enveloped them both-

-and Hermione woke again with a start with a _very_ angry Crookshanks glaring at her from the floor where he must’ve fled to escape her flailing limbs.

She needed air. Desperately.

Was she… Was she going to-

She felt like she was going to be sick, felt hot and sticky for the first time in months, and she didn’t even think about grabbing a blanket or a cloak or even her slippers as she stumbled up the stairs of her dorm, of her and Draco’s common area, of the stairs to Avila proper and out into the cool night air.

Sucking in lungfuls of air, she leaned over, resting her hands on her knees as she bent over to try and get her head to quit spinning.

The Strain was trying to talk to her, trying to reassure her - but how could she be _wrong_ about what she’d seen? What other spell could possibly have a cast of **that** color? - and why didn’t Hermione understand that this was just the end of a chapter, not the whole book and-

It took her a long moment, but suddenly Hermione realized that someone was watching her, that footsteps were approaching, and it was with a growing sense of horror that she realized she’d left her wand behind in her panic.

Well, maybe she’d get a few kicks or punches in before she died at least.

But when she straightened up, already in a defensive position, she immediately felt her knees threaten to give out, because it wasn’t…

It wasn’t a foe at all.

“...Ron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love to all of you, as always, for you words and kudos and your continued reading. It means the world to me <333
> 
> (Some of you may notice that there was an edit in this chapter. I realized after the fact that Vector had said that the final battle was going to happen on the Vernal Equinox when I meant to say Summer Solstice. My bad!)


	20. Chapter 19: Zugzwang?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zugzwang: The point in chess where a player has realized that, if they play the game through to the end, there is no option but for them to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made you all wait so long for the last chapter that I did a bit of a rush to get this chapter to you faster.

Hermione could feel her knees wobble, start to give out as she took in the tall redhead standing before her, but somehow Ron caught her before she could properly fall, his arms sliding around her waist as he hauled her up and into a hug, Hermione clinging to him as if her life depended on it in that moment.

Hell… Maybe it _did_.

“...Ron…”

“I’ve gotcha, Hermione…” He soothed, squeezing her a bit harder, holding her for a long moment before carefully setting her back down on her feet, though his hands held onto her elbows just in case she started to wobble again.

“...but… but _how_ -”

“I can’t stay-” He was quick to mention, looking terribly guilty in that moment and Hermione’s heart broke all over again at the prospect of losing him again. “-Harry’ll be expecting me back around dawn, but I needed to see you. There’s… There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

Hermione nodded, her grip on his upper arms tightening a bit before a shudder ran through her and she was reminded of where she was and what she was wearing.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, I just-” She shuddered again, this time a bit more violently, and she pulled back to wrap her arms around herself, though Ron pulled out his wand and cast a warming spell over her to try and help.

She quietly thanked him before continuing with what she’d been about to tell him: “...there’s a lot I need to tell you, too, Ron. I’ll just um… I’ll go put something on and then maybe we can sneak into the kitchens? How long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal?”

Ron laughed at that. “Fuck a proper meal, I’d kill for just a decent _sandwich_ right now!”

His stomach grumbled as if to second his comment, and Hermione let out a quiet laugh, telling him she’d be right back before sneaking back inside of Avila and making quick work of getting changed, making sure to tuck her wand up inside her sleeve this time before heading back out to meet him.

It wasn’t long before she’d managed to get them inside the castle and down into the kitchens, tucking up with him at the table in the center of the room, smiling graciously at the handful of elves that came and fed them.

A few of them recognized Ron, and went about making him a few of his favorite sandwiches, though Hermione was content with just a cup of tea.

“So… Where would you like to start?” Hermione carefully asked once Ron had finished his first sandwich and was about halfway through his second.

He sighed, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing and turning to face her a bit more directly, occasionally gesturing with his sandwich as he started to tell her about what all was going on.

“I guess you’ve figured out by now that we broke into the Ministry?”

Hermione nodded and informed him that she had questions about that, but she wanted to hear his story first, so Ron continued.

“Harry’d seen this copy of the _Prophet_ back before Christmas, and Umbridge was doing an interview in it. Was wearing this wonky looking locket, and Harry just… Went bloody nutty over it. Said he was _convinced_ it was a…” He looked around him, as if careful to make sure they weren’t being listened in on. “...you-know-what.”

“Is it?”

“After spending the last several weeks with it? I have no doubt. Not with the way it’s making Harry react to things.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s _different_ Hermione. Even worse than he was back when we left here.”

Hermione frowned at that, unsure how such a thing was possible, but Ron started to elaborate before she could ask.

“He talks in his sleep, you know. Says all sorts of things that… That aren’t like Harry. He was making this weird hissing noise a few nights ago. Reminded me a bit of second year with the snake during the dueling club. I’m pretty sure it was Parseltongue.”

“...I wonder what he was saying…”

“Sounded like a command, if I had to wager a guess, but-”

“-why would you be guessing on such a thing, Mister Weasley?”

Both of them jumped at the sudden additional voice, having not heard anyone enter, and Hermione winced when she realized who it was.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir, I-”

“There is no need to explain yourself, Mister Weasley,” Dumbledore reassured, though Hermione didn’t buy his soft smile for an instant. Not anymore. Not after what she’d been through and seen.

Dumbledore leveled a look at her, and she _knew_ she was going to be given the what-for for this after Ron left them again.

“But I would be curious to hear about your adventures with Harry for myself, and to know why you’ve come back to us on this particular evening.”

“Well, as I was telling Hermione, I-”

“I heard what you were saying,” Dumbledore quietly interrupted, and Hermione felt a familiar tingle at the edges of her fingertips, and she had to restrain herself from letting her feelings known. “You may continue as you were.”

“Right…” Ron shot a quick look to Hermione, took another bite of his sandwich, and then continued.

“...well, Harry hasn’t been the same since his birthday last year, sir. Hermione and I could both see it. He told us about the um… The magical protections that he had on him while he was at the Dursley’s and why he had to keep going back there - not that I think it was good for him, for the record - but it’s kinda obvious that something changed after his birthday. He lost the protections and it’s like… Like You-Know-Who is trying to get inside his head even more than usual.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that, Mister Weasley?”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t-” Ron shot back, and Hermione could’ve kissed him at that moment if she’d been so inclined. “-because I think you already knew that something was wrong with Harry and that it was only going to get worse, and you haven’t done anything to help him. Not properly.”

“Mister Weasley!”

“I’m not a student anymore, sir,” Ron shot back, his spine stiffening a touch. “You can’t take away house points or punish me or tell my mum on me.”

Hermione thought she might burst with pride and then cry, suddenly.

“Harry’s different, now. He’s got something dark growing in him, and it’s only gotten worse since he got his hands on that locket. It’s like it’s feeding his rage. I’m usually the target, but I’m also the only one who seems to be able to bring him back out of it. Sometimes I-I wear the locket myself, and it _says things_ that I can’t unhear, and I can only guess at what it’s telling him.”

Dumbledore just looked a bit stunned, and Ron kept going.

“You’ve know, all along, that this was a possibility, haven’t you? And you didn’t do anything to protect him, to help him defend himself. I get that you’re playing chess with all of us, sir, but Harry isn’t a pawn. He’s your King, and you’ve sacrificed almost all of your best pieces and left him virtually defenseless. We’re coming up on the final hour, sir, and Harry’s almost in check. What are you doing to make sure he doesn’t get mated?”

“Mister Weasley-”

“You _do_ realize you’re almost at zugzwang, don’t you, sir?”

Dumbledore merely stared at Ron, the twinkle having long gone out in the old man’s gaze.

Hermione was actually beaming with pride, and had reached out a reassuring hand to rest on Ron’s shoulder.

“When were you going to tell him that he’s a Horcrux, too, sir?”

Hermione felt her eyes close tight at the question, a tear slipping out unbidden. Of _course_ Ron would’ve figured it out, too, though a part of her wondered when he had…

“You don’t know what you’re tal-”

“Don’t I?” Ron shot back, sounding angry all of a sudden, and Hermione realized that they were both glaring at Dumbledore then. “I’ve lived alone with him for the last several _months_ , sir, and I’m telling you right now that _that_ isn’t the Harry Potter I grew up with! Harry’s eyes aren’t red! Harry’s quick to laugh and joke and loves Quidditch and might be in love with my little sister! Harry doesn’t speak in Parseltongue and mutter to himself about M-Mudbloods.”

Hermione gasped at that, unable to believe the word she’d just heard come out of Ron’s mouth.

“Ron…”

“I’m sorry,” He murmured, turning to her to reach out a hand and rest it on her knee. “I didn’t want you have to hear that, ‘Mione. But he’s said it-” He turned back to glare a bit at Dumbledore. “-and more than once. Especially since we got our hands on that locket.”

“You should bring him to me,” Dumbledore murmured, looking a bit more like his usual self again, though Hermione trusted him less now than she did before the start of this little conversation.

“Why? So you can get inside his head more?”

“I can help him. You both should know that I’ve had nothing but the best of intentions for Harry since the beginning.”

“Have you now?” It was Hermione’s turn to speak up, though she was - perhaps - a bit more calm than Ron was. “You didn’t answer Ron’s question, Headmaster. How long have you known that Harry was a Horcrux?”

“I… Have suspected that it was a possibility from the moment I first saw him.”

“He’s bloody _seventeen years old_ and you didn’t think-”

“There is much about what I do and do not think about, Mister Weasley, that you know nothing about.”

“Then enlighten us!” Hermione shouted back, suddenly on her feet again, and she was a little proud of the fact that Dumbledore actually stepped back a hint when she stood.

“You’ve been playing this game for _so long now_ that you’ve lost sight of what it’s actually about. Real lives are at stake! Blood _is_ going to be spilled, Headmaster, and what are you doing? You- you’ve let your most important player fall to the wayside! You know what he is, and you know the prophecy just as well as we do and _what that means_ for all of us, and yet…” She sucked in a shaky breath, realizing that she was crying and that Ron had reached out to take her hand in his.

“...and yet you stand there and do nothing. You don’t tell us how to destroy a Horcrux, or how to help Harry… Do you even _know_?”

“...Miss Granger…”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you know how to help Harry.”

“Do you, Miss Granger?”

“I know everything,” She replied, feeling the Strain bleed out of her suddenly and come to form in front of her, felt Ron suddenly scramble to his feet and pull away in shock and possibly fear at the sight of it.

Right, he hadn’t seen it before, had he?

“I know the end-” She heard herself saying, but it wasn’t entirely just her voice, was it? “-and I know the beginning. I know the deaths and the births and the loves found and lost in between them all. I know how it will go, how it will not, and I know when you will die, Albus Dumbledore, just as surely as I know when Harry Potter and Tom Riddle both will die and survive.”

She kept going, but she didn’t know how, or why, but if the Strain was giving itself a voice now, who was Hermione Granger to stop it?

She couldn’t, as she soon found out, when her voice suddenly took on a richer, warmer tone, her posher English suddenly morphing into an Irish lilt that she couldn’t’ve faked no matter how hard she’d tried.

_”Blood will be shed as two lives become one, as friend fights friend and foe defeats foe… Dawn will break and night shall fall while Death becomes both richer and poorer… Power previously unknown will come to light while darkness seeks to claim it… And love will be lost while another is found when blood is shed and two lives become one.”_

Hermione came back to herself a moment later, and was well aware of the fact that both Ron and Dumbledore were staring at her with mouth’s agape - and who could blame them given that she’d just sort of rambled off a damn _prophecy_ \- and she felt her legs starting to tremble again so she sank back down into her seat and reclaimed her teacup.

“...Hermione?”

“That was not Miss Granger, Mister Weasley-”

“How do you know?” Hermione quietly asked, her eyes lifting to peer over at Dumbledore over the rim of her teacup. “Do _you_ know what the prophecy meant? Because I have an inkling of an idea, and I’d be curious to know just how wrong you might be, sir.”

Dumbledore started to frown suddenly, and Hermione wondered if perhaps she’d finally pushed him too far, but instead he merely straightened his spine and plastered his usual smile back onto his face.

“Perhaps I know more about this game of chess that I’m playing than either you or Mister Weasley realize, Miss Granger. Speaking of which, Mister Weasley, I would be keen to speak with you in private-”

“No, sir,” Ron murmured with a shake of his head, taking a step back and closer towards Hermione again. “I have to get back to Harry. He needs me, and _I’m_ certainly not keen on abandoning him.”

Hermione reached out to squeeze his hand again, and briefly wondered if in another life she might’ve had it in her to fall for him.

Dumbledore fell silent again for a long moment, before rather surprisingly giving a nod of agreement.

“You both have made it obvious what you think of me, and I know that perhaps I _am_ an old fool-” Hermione squinted at Dumbledore, not buying this anymore than she had anything else he’d said so far. “-but I have not abandoned Harry. Maybe I just haven’t been as good to him as I had hoped.”

Ron snorted, but neither of them said anything else, and Dumbledore took his leave shortly thereafter, leaving Ron and Hermione alone with the house elves once more.

Ron moved to plop back down in his seat, grabbing for another sandwich and eating quietly for a moment as he thought over what he’d just witnessed, giving Hermione a chance to think about it herself.

“So… You’re giving out prophecies, now?” Ron gently teased, a familiar humor in his blue eyes. “Thought you hated Divination.”

“Suppose I am…” Hermione agreed, though she was staring back down at her now-empty teacup as she continued. “...though, I’m not sure that was _me_ just now…”

Ron gave a nod, though it was clear he didn’t entirely understand. “I’ve never heard you talk like _that_ , that’s for sure. That was… Bloody **weird** , really.”

“I haven’t told you about the Strain, have I?”

Ron shook his head, and Hermionen realized it was her turn to talk.

So, she did. And she told him _everything_ \- or as much as she felt safe telling him given that there were clearly others present in the kitchen with them - and by the end of it, Ron only had one comment to make:

“I can’t _believe_ you’ve been shagging Viktor Krum and didn’t tell me about it!”

But he said it with a laugh, and Hermione felt… A sort of relief come with that. Ron, for all that they weren’t always kind to one another, was still one of her best friends, and _oh_ how she had missed him over the last several months.

Maybe that was why she found herself clinging to him just a bit harder when she went to help him back out of the castle just a few minutes before dawn, the bag he’d brought with him full of supplies and food that would surely help him and Harry for a while longer.

“I don’t know when we’ll be back-”

“The night before the Summer Solstice.”

“...alright, now it’s just getting creepy, ‘Mione.”

“Sorry.”

He bumped his arm against her shoulder as they walked to the edge of the grounds so he could Apparate away, but he paused and looked back at her again before taking that final step.

“...it was good seeing you. I wish you could’ve come with us when we first left, but… I-I think it was best that you stayed.”

Hermione started to bristle, but Ron clarified before she could get too hurt by his words.

“I just mean that… You’ve grown a lot while we’ve been gone. Look at all the work you’ve done! And I just… I know that me and Harry would’ve held you back if we’d stayed. Maybe **we’d** be further along if you were with us, but… You wouldn’t be. And maybe you’re supposed to be further along right now because it means we’ll all be further along when this bloody shit starts, yeah?”

Hermione was quiet for a moment before she started to nod her head in understanding, moving forward to claim another hug from the redhead, snuggling further into his chest when she felt his lips against the top of her head, though they each pulled away from the other a moment later.

“Give my best to Ginny, yeah?”

“She’s going to kill you both when you come back; you know that, right?”

“A bat bogey hex from her is like getting a hug from mum, at this point,” He laughed, taking the step between Hogwarts and the rest of the world. “At least I know it means she cares!”

Hermione laughed at that, but the sound ended in a choked sob when he suddenly spun away and disappeared with a crack, leaving her alone again in the early dawn.

At least with the sun rising, the air about her was starting to warm as she made her way back to Avila, wanting another cup of tea and maybe a nap before she started her day.

But she was stopped halfway down the stairs to the common room by Draco, who looked a bit worse for wear.

“Snape needs to see both of us in his office.” A pause. “An hour ago.”

_Shit._

“Where have you _been_ , Granger?”

_Double shit._

“...out?”

“You’re an idiot, Granger. Come on.”

And Draco Malfoy took her by the wrist and hauled her along behind him as he made a beeline for their Head of House’s office.

Snape looked… Honestly not much better than Draco when they arrived, but at least he looked relieved that they’d finally made it, if Hermione was able to correctly interpret that look in his eyes.

“So nice of you to join us, Miss Granger,” He murmured, though Hermione was quick to notice the lack of sarcasm that usually would’ve accompanied such a statement.

“My apologies, sir. I was… out having a walk.”

“You’re lying, but we’ll address that later.”

He sighed before taking a seat across from where Draco and Hermione had taken up spaces on the couch, and Hermione wondered if she’d ever seen the Potions Master so disheveled before.

“Draco has brought me a letter that his mother sent him late yesterday evening. It would appear…” Snape sighed suddenly, and Hermione felt genuine fear grow in her body with his next few words.

“...it would appear the Dark Lord has been made aware of certain things, Miss Granger, particularly in regards to you and the Strain, and what that may mean for how the victory will fall come the Summer Solstice.”

But then it got worse, and Hermione wondered if the sudden tightness in her chest was a sign of an impending panic attack.

“He’s making plans to take over Hogsmeade within the week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Me and my cliffhangers, right?
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined :)


	21. Chapter 20: Showing Not Telling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Strain knows more than it's letting on, it seems...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've cracked 4,000 hits on this story, and I am absolutely _floored_ by that. I don't deserve y'all, truly. I hope I can continue to try and earn you, though!

Hermione couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, but could definitely feel the air rush out of her lungs in a gasp of shock, eyes going wide even as she reached out, somehow both surprised and _not_ when Draco’s warm hand found her much cooler one.

“He… He’s going to attack Hogsmeade?”

“Within the week, yes,” Snape confirmed, his voice tight as if he, too, was struggling with the notion.

Had he not known about the plan beforehand? What did that mean for him, then?

“...Mother says that, from what she overheard, he’s going to take over Hogsmeade, and then figure out a way into the Castle to… Well, to take _you_ Granger.”

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick all over again, and folded in on herself so she could drop her head down between her knees as she tried to suck in breaths of air to calm herself back down.

“But he can’t just… He can’t just _walk in here_ -” Draco was saying, but Snape was quick to challenge that statement.

“He can. There are more ways into this castle than through the front door, Draco, but we don’t know them all.”

Hermione shifted in her seat and suddenly frowned, feeling something in the outer pocket of her robes that she hadn’t felt before, and she straightened up enough to dig it out, gasping as soon as she realized what it was.

_Don’t know why, but I had this thought that you might need this and it worries me how much Harry looks at it anymore. ~Ron_

“He must’ve… He must’ve slipped this to me before he left.”

“The bloody hell _is_ that, Granger.”

“Miss Granger, is that-”

“-the Marauders’ Map? Yes, sir…” She nodded, still staring at the folded up bit of parchment in her lap, though the map hadn’t been activated yet, so there was no way for Draco or Snape to see that for themselves.

“How did you get your hands on that?”

“I-I was out getting some air earlier, sir,” She started to elaborate, knowing she owed both of them the truth, even if she couldn’t tell them the _whole_ truth just yet. “And… And Ron was there. He came because he needed to see me, to talk to me and tell me what was going on, and I-I guess he needed to give me this, too.”

“Weasley was here?” Draco asked, but Snape was looking over the note that had accompanied the map.

“What does he mean by Potter _studying_ it, do you think?”

“That it isn’t _actually_ Harry studying it, sir.”

Snape nodded at that, clearly understanding what she wasn’t saying, though Draco still looked confused.

“...it’s just a bit of old parchment.”

Hermione shook her head at that before pulling out her wand and holding it over the map.

“...I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…”

Oh, but the look on Draco’s face when the map started to reveal itself… That never really got old, did it?

“Is that… Is that _Hogwarts??_ ”

“And an accurate depiction of everyone currently within the castle grounds, yes.” Hermione confirmed, though she started to frown with a sudden realization.

“...We’re not on here.”

Snape looked curious at that, and Hermione was quick to turn the map towards him so she could point out what she was referencing.

“Avila and all of its inhabitants aren’t on this map, sir.”

“How is that possible? This map shows everything…”

“It must be like the Room of Requirement,” She pondered out loud, ignoring Draco’s growing confusion over this subject. “Its magic is outside the norm for Hogwarts, so the Marauders must not’ve known to include it, or perhaps _how_ to include it when they made the map.”

“Okay, but who _are_ the Marauders?”

“Harry’s father and his friends,” Hermione carefully explained, though she thought she saw something else flash across Snape’s features with the mention, wondering - not for the first time - about the way Snape and said group of friends must’ve interacted during his time as a student at Hogwarts.

“And they just… Made this map?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“I don’t get what that has to do with our current predicament, though.”

“It also shows ways in and out of the castle that might not be known to the general populace, Draco,” Snape murmured, carefully studying the map once Hermione handed it over to him.

“But we have an advantage, now,” Hermione mentioned, feeling slightly less sick than she had been a few minutes previously. “Because if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn’t know that we’re here, or where we’re potentially coming from-”

“-than he’ll be blindsided when we do arrive.” Snape agreed, though Draco still looked skeptical.

“What if he finds out, sir?”

“Draco?”

“You weren’t included in on this plan, sir. Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Worry is irrelevant, Draco. I haven’t always been included in his plans anymore than your father or Bellatrix have. He can’t tell all of us everything just in case one of us isn’t wholly his. If false information is leaked, he knows exactly who leaked it.”

“What makes us so sure this newest information isn’t false, then?” Hermione asked, looking between the two men seated with her.

“Mum seemed pretty keen on warning me. Usually she’s indifferent to this stuff, but she wants me to be safe. Even if it does turn out to be nothing-” Draco elaborated with a careless shrug. “-it’s better for us to be on alert, isn’t it?”

“I’m in agreement with Draco,” Snape supplied with a nod before handing the map back to Hermione. “I would much rather be safe than shoulder the consequences later.”

Hermione gave a nod, but she looked pensive all of a sudden, and both men were quick to notice it.

“...something is still troubling you, Miss Granger,” Snape murmured and Hermione was watching as Draco nodded in agreement.

“...Ron and I were interrupted by the Headmaster during the middle of our conversation, sir. Ron held his own, and I was quite proud of him, but I…” She sighed, lifting a hand to tug at a curl that was falling into her face.

“...I don’t know if I trust him, sir.”

“You mean the Headmaster?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me everything.”

Hermione sighed, biting down on her lower lip, suddenly wishing Draco weren’t there but she knew there was really only one way to relay all of this to Snape and have him _understand_.

“I-It might be easier to _show you_ , sir.”

Snape stiffened at the suggestion, his eyes narrowing a touch, but he gave a nod before turning towards Draco.

“Write to your mother, thank her for the warning, but keep it as vague as I’ve taught you.”

“Of course, sir,” Draco agreed before getting to his feet, giving Hermione a nod before taking his leave of them both.

Hermione made a mental note to thank him for his discretion later.

Once they were alone, Hermione turned her gaze back towards her Head of House, biting down on her lower lip before steeling herself and straightening up in her seat.

“Have you ever experienced mind-reading before?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no sir, but that’s not to say it hasn’t happened.”

“It’s… Not the sort of thing you can really ignore or that can happen to you without your knowledge. I need to warn you of that before we begin.”

“...will it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t. Stay calm and relaxed, don’t fight against me looking. Concentrate on the memory - or memories - you wish to share, and I’ll make as quick of work of this as I can.”

But she was nervous, and it was obvious, though what exactly she was nervous about she couldn’t particularly say…

Watching as Snape pushed himself to his feet and moved to claim the spot next to her on the couch, Hermione turned towards him a bit more directly, clenching her hands in her lap since she didn’t really know what else to do with them.

“You’ll need to make full eye contact with me, Hermione,” Snape murmured, and Hermione realized that she’d been staring at a speck of white fluff on his shoulder, so she gave a nod and slowly lifted her gaze to his.

Snape had a laser-like focus as he whispered the spell, and Hermione did her best to stay relaxed, though it was… _Odd_ feeling him move about inside her head.

“Just breathe…” She distantly heard him say, and she sucked in a shaky breath as she let the memory of what had happened in the kitchens just a short time previously come to the surface, letting it replay again when he asked her to.

After a long moment, she felt him withdraw again, and she shook her head slightly as she sat back and blinked once she felt him leave entirely, letting her eyes slide closed again for a moment as she tried to regain herself.

“You did well,” Snape soothed, his tone calm and reassuring. “I know how difficult the first time is, but I thank you for not trying to fight me.”

“I understand what you mean about it not being the sort of thing that could happen to you unnoticed, though,” Hermione replied, voice quiet, perhaps a touch unsure. “Even as careful as I know you were being, it was still obvious that you were there.”

“Even the most skilled mind reader leaves traces of themselves behind. Sometimes it’s faint, almost easy to pass off as an afterthought, but rarely.”

Hermione nodded at that, starting to understand a bit more, but she was starting to wonder if this was really the sort of thing that could only be understood through repeated exposure.

“...was the memory sufficient enough for you to understand my earlier comment, sir?”

“It was,” Snape murmured, giving a small nod of his head. “And I lean towards agreeing with you, though we must err on the side of caution when it comes to withholding things from the Headmaster.”

“I just don’t think he’s capable of seeing the big picture anymore, sir,” Hermione countered, though she knew, ultimately, that Snape was right. “He’s spent too long looking at all the individual trees, I’m afraid.”

“It’s possible, certainly, and I think we should look into putting precautions into place just in case, but we’ll still need to inform him of what’s going on.”

Hermione nodded, but Snape pressed on before she could form a response.

“...have you seen any hints of the Dark Lord’s plan in the Strain? Regarding Hogsmeade, I mean.”

She sighed, having been wondering the same thing, and she shook her head before letting her eyes slide closed and calling forth the equation in question, letting it bleed out of her as it was wont to do before it took up its usual place floating just off to her side.

“If it’s there-” She muttered, glancing over to the Strain as she replied. “-it’s hiding exceedingly well. So far, the only date of significance is… the um… the-”

But she was trailing off, because there was a new set of numbers now, ones she’d never seen before glowing in a slightly different shade of blue than the rest.

“You’re new,” She murmured to it, getting to her feet so she could move in and get a closer look, feeling more than seeing Snape’s confusion as he moved to stand beside her, his presence a comforting warmth next to her shoulder.

“What are you seeing?”

“This, sir-” She pointed at the new number set. “-this bit here. That wasn’t there earlier when I was studying.”

“Is it safe to assume that you will need time to determine what it means?”

She nodded as she reached out a hand to trace her fingers along in, trying to see if the Strain would give her a hint.

It didn’t, and she withdrew her hand with a sigh.

“Get some sleep, then, Miss Granger. I have… An important conversation to have with Dumbledore and the rest of the staff, it seems.”

“Good luck, sir.”

He nodded, and nothing more was said as Hermione took her leave, the Strain following along behind her for a moment before pushing forward to crawl back inside of her.

She was still contemplating what the new segment meant as she drifted off to sleep a short while later, as numbers started to swim through her vision and she was shown things that she’d both seen and not seen before, as memories of things yet to happen began to manifest behind her eyelids and take on a tangible form.

_There were hands in hair… Long callused fingers caressing along the planes of her torso, cupping the soft swell of her breast, dipping to feel the wet heat between her legs… lips meeting hers, melding, parting, tasting…_

_She knew these lips but she didn’t. She knew these hands but their touch was unlike anything she’d ever felt before…_

_There was a body pressed against hers, holding her down, lifting her up, thrusting inside of her… Her heartbeat matched his as hands took hold of her hips to guide her motions, as a warm purr of a voice washed over her, speaking words she’d heard a thousand times and yet had never been uttered to her before, encouraging her hands on his body as she touched and explored and stroked..._

_She **knew** this man, with every fiber of her being… But Hermione couldn’t make out his features, only a vague sense of dark hair, of long limbs and hands that knew what it meant to work._

_There was heat flooding through her, a head bowed between her legs, a hint of her teeth against a pectoral muscle and of hips grinding together._

_There were quiet afters and hands over mouths to muffle pleading moans._

_He tasted like salt and clove and… And firewhiskey and honey… Of bittersweet chocolate and hazelnuts… Like perfection._

_Like **love**._

Hermione woke with a start, her heart pounding as she tried to figure out what had just happened, what she’d just _seen_ but it was all running together and starting to fade away as good dreams so often did, and she wanted to cry because she _needed to know_.

_You already know the answer, my child, but you won’t realize it for a time yet._

“That’s not particularly helpful, you know?”

It sounded like the Strain actually _laughed_ at that, which only served to make Hermione feel more frustrated, but what was the point of getting overly upset? What was Time to something that could see all of it?

_Now you’re getting it._

Slowly though, she got out of bed, sighing to herself when she realized that she probably could have slept in later given that it was a Sunday, but there was work to be done, and Arithmancy translations weren’t going to do themselves.

Pulling her bathrobe on around her, she shuffled her way up to the common room and the Avila kitchen, intent on making herself a cup of tea to help wake up, but was quick to notice that she wasn’t the only person awake so early that morning, and she gave Snape a cursory nod before moving to put the kettle on the stove.

“...morning, sir.”

“Indeed it is, isn’t it?”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Little. Though I am… Used to it, at this point in my life. Coffee does wonders, you know…”

Hermione gave a nod as she moved to fetch a mug down out of a nearby cabinet, looking over the tea selection before glancing over her shoulder at Snape.

“Would you care for a cup of tea, sir?”

He shook his head. “I thank you for the offer, but no. I have business to attend to presently and have already put it off long enough.”

“Dumbledore?”

Another shake of his head. “The rest of the staff.”

She nodded in understanding. “Good luck, then.”

He gave a nod, but left before saying anything else, and Hermione was left alone to wait for the kettle to boil.

And suddenly, she felt like someone was watching her again, that same terrifying feeling as from before Christmas…

When she’d been attacked in the library…

She didn’t even have time to _try_ and call for help before there was an ice cold hand around her neck, as the edges of her vision went dark just as blue lightning flew out from her fingertips, but the fingers tightened their hold, and Hermione was able to _just_ make out the outline of a tall person with longer hair before the darkness claimed her and she knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Q, but... What's a blackcoffee13 chapter without a cliffhanger ending, eh?
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you're keen on doing so :P


	22. Chapter 21: Poppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione comes to and things have gotten worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. The cliffhanger. It's terrible, and I'm sorry. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it!

Hermione would discover later that Addy Fitch was the one who’d found her, who had called for help and had cradled her head as Ginny and Draco and Michael Matthews - a fourth year who’d originally been in Ravenclaw - had maneuvered her out of Avila and towards the castle, that they’d been intercepted halfway by Snape and McGonagall and Pomfrey.

Four days.

Four days she’d been unconscious, though there was no clear reason as to _why_ she was practically comatose, _why_ she gave no sign of waking up until the moment she simply _did_.

It was dark when she awoke, likely the middle of the night, and she awoke with the sort of confusion that one typically felt after a really good nap and weren’t sure exactly what time or even day it was.

It didn’t help that the first deep breath she took was filled with the smells of the Hospital Wing and not the usual smells of her room, so the note of confusion on her features was clear to understand when she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings.

Ginny was asleep in the chair beside her, and there was a familiar black-clad figure standing at the foot of her bed looking over what was presumably her chart.

“...Pro-Professor?”

Black eyes snapped up at the sound and in two quick strides Snape had made his way to her side, leaning over her as he pulled out his wand and did a series of complicated flicks over her head, the resulting magic making her scalp tingle a bit.

“Good. You’ve rejoined the living.” For all that the words could’ve been interpreted as Snape’s usual sarcasm, there was something almost relieved about his tone that gave Hermione pause.

“I should take points for giving us the scare that you did, Granger, but our lead is tenuous already, and I’d hate for us to lose the House Cup this close to the end of the year.”

“...w-what happened?”

Snape’s voice was quiet, clearly meant for just Hermione to hear as he likely didn’t want to wake Ginny up.

“I was hoping that perhaps you would be able to tell me that. What do you remember?”

“...I was making tea… Y-You had just left and then i-it was like…” It was starting to come back to her, but it felt fragmented.

Almost like a dream.

“...i-it was like the library all over again. Someone was watching me, but th-they were attacking me before I c-could even attempt to call for help…”

“How did it feel?”

“Cold,” She was quick to reply, which was when she realized that she felt far warmer than she had for the last several months.

Looking down, though, it was easy for her to figure out that the pile of blankets covering her were likely each imbued with a warming charm and would be the reason why.

“What else?”

“There was a hand at my throat.” Her eyes lifted to meet Snape’s again, and she wondered if it would be easier to share this with him like she had the memory of Dumbledore in the kitchens with her and Ron.

“...a-and a figure with long hair?”

That part was new, she knew, and Snape’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

“C-Can I show you, sir?”

He shook his head. “You’re still too weak, I’m afraid. If I attempt it, I would be risking harming you further, and we simply cannot afford it. Not right now.”

“Right… _He’s_ coming by the end of the week.”

Snape’s mouth twisted slightly, and Hermione could feel herself frowning.

“...sir?”

“You’ve been unconscious for four days now, Miss Granger, and have missed… Much. He has already arrived.”

Hermione felt herself freeze at the news, felt every fiber of her being try to withdraw from the truth that had just been uttered…

Well, every fiber but the Strain, it seemed, which was singing a song in her mind’s ear to try and soothe her, but Hermione didn’t speak Irish Gaelic, did she?

...though, how did she know it was Gaelic to begin with was another question she’d have to sort out later when she had the time to think.

“He… He’s _here_?”

“He arrived early this morning, just before dawn. We didn’t even have time to mount a defense, as we’d only just finished refortifying the protection charms and wards about the school.”

“Can he get to us?”

“For now, no. But we don’t know how long the wards will hold against his onslaughts.”

“...the Solstice, sir.” It clicked. “W-We have until the Solstice.”

“And tomorrow is the Equinox,” Snape sighed, and Hermione was surprised to see his mask slip for a moment, revealing a hint of the exhausted man who lived behind it as he accepted her announcement as the fact it was.

“I-I need out of the Hospital Wing, sir.”

“I know. But not until morning. I’ll be better prepared to catch you up on things, then.”

Snape straightened up then from where he’d been leaning over her, and Hermione couldn’t entirely stop the way she almost followed after him, wanting to chase after the heat he was giving off that the blankets she was swimming in couldn’t offer.

“Sleep, Granger, if you can. You’ll need all the rest you can get, I’m afraid.”

He slipped away then, sparing one last glance at her over his shoulder before slipping out the door and into the main corridor, leaving Hermione alone with the still-slumbering Ginny at her side.

Eventually, she drifted off again, this time to actually dream, though the images she saw - the flashes of skin against skin, the cries for help, the green light surrounding her and the woman in red, one silver eye and one brown - they didn’t seem to help make her sleep _restful_.

Maybe that was why she felt groggier than ever when she awoke again just after dawn, seeing the Hospital Wing start to lighten as the sunlight bled in through the windows, and Hermione looked over to note that Ginny was still sleeping in the chair beside her.

As much as she appreciated the redhead’s dedication, she certainly didn’t envy her the crick in her neck she was about to wake up with.

“Gin!”

“Rummy!” Ginny shouted back as she awoke with a start, all bleary eyed and squinty, her hair a bit of a mess as she sat up and tried to take in her surroundings.

Eventually, her gaze settled on Hermione, eyes widening as she realized her friend was awake.

“Bloody hell, Hermione-”

“Isn’t that your brothers line?”

“Don’t be a prat! You scared the _shite_ out of me!”

And suddenly, Hermione had an armful of crying friend, and as much as it might’ve hurt to move in that moment - the cold had gotten more into her joints, hadn’t it? - she wrapped her arms as tight as she could around Ginny and held on until Ginny decided she was okay enough to pull away.

She didn’t pull back entirely, though, just enough to take a seat on the edge of the bed, her hand reaching to take Hermione’s as she stared down at the older girl.

“I-I thought I’d lost you…”

Hermione felt a pang of guilt in her chest at that, and she gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze. “It’s gonna take more than an invisible attacker to take me out at this point, Gin. I’m… Pretty damn certain of that at this point.”

“We almost couldn’t get you here,” Ginny murmured. “Your Strain had formed this sort of energy field around you. Kept zapping us whenever we tried to get close to you, but eventually I guess it realized we were trying to help?”

“Were you the one that found me, then?”

“No.” Ginny shook her head. “Addy was. She’d gone to get something to eat for one of her Venus Flytraps and screamed when she saw you splayed out on the floor. When I first saw you, I-I thought you were-”

But whatever Ginny had thought about seeing Hermione the way she had never came to light, because just then several things happened at once:

First, Snape burst into the Hospital Wing with McGonagall,Vector, Flitwick and Dumbledore hot on his heels.

Second, Pomfrey came scurrying out of her office, trying to shush the gaggle of staff members that were shouting after Snape to ‘slow down for a bloody moment’ as she reminded them that they were in an infirmary and they needed to mind their manners and-

Thirdly, the Strain picked that exact moment to emerge and show off the brand new set of numbers it had learned and calculated while Hermione had been unconscious.

And last, but certainly not least, Hermione realized that she desperately, _terribly_ needed to use the loo.

“Ginny, help me up.”

“You should still be in bed, Miss Gran-”  
“Now isn’t the time to address this, Sever-”  
“-ere new colors in the Stra-?”  
“-wards won’t hold-”  
“I agree with Fil-”

“Oy! **You** lot!” Ginny interrupted, silencing literally everyone in the room as they all froze in place - including Hermione, who had been about halfway out of bed - and the redhead smirked as she looked over her now-captive audience.

“Five minutes. You can give her that, yeah?”

Everyone looked at one another before nodding, and Ginny returned to helping Hermione out of bed, an arm looped around her waist as she helped the older witch to the loo where Hermione about cried with relief as she let go of the pressure that had painfully built up in her bladder.

“You good?” Ginny murmured after Hermione had washed her hands and wiped off her face with a clean towel.

“...no, but I think I can handle them now.”

“Good enough, then.” And then Ginny came close again to once more help her friend back out into the ward where everyone was waiting on them.

A discussion must’ve happened in the duo’s absence, because Pomfrey was standing off to the side with her arms crossed and a sour look plastered onto her features, McGonagall and Flitwick had moved off with Dumbledore to hold another conversation of their own, leaving Vector and Snape to greet the witches.

“Feel like breakfast, Granger?” Vector quipped with a grin.

Snape rolled his eyes, but didn’t make an alternate suggestion, so Hermione could only guess that that had possibly been part of his plan as well.

“...I suppose I could eat, yes.” She agreed, turning to look at Ginny who gave a nod of agreement of her own.

“Good. Come along, then!”

Snape rolled his eyes again, but motioned for Ginny and Hermione to follow after Vector who had already made her way back out of the Ward, clearly wanting to bring up the rear just in case Hermione faltered and Ginny wasn’t able to catch her in time.

The castle felt different, though, as they headed down towards the Great Hall, and Hermione turned her head to look about her as they walked, taking in the way the suits of armor had come out of their usual posts to stand guard at regular intervals along the corridors, already ready for a battle that wouldn’t come to them for several more weeks.

The halls were silent, too, and Hermione began to wonder if the school had been evacuated in lieu of the situation, though that speculation quickly died when they got to the Great Hall and they found what appeared to be the entire school having some sort of mass sleepover.

_Snape said this was the safest place for the students when they reinforced the protective charms… How long have they all **been** here?_

There were groups huddled about all over, Gryffindors and Slytherins playing games of Exploding Snape while Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws chatted about greenhouse theory and shared slices of oranges with one another.

“...the whole school has turned Avila, haven’t they?” Hermione murmured, and she felt Ginny give her a gentle squeeze in reply.

She knew it wouldn’t last, but it was a good mental picture to hold onto to brace against the darkness that was to come.

Soon enough, however, she found herself being plopped down in a chair up at the teacher’s table with Snape on her right, Vector on her left, and Ginny sitting across from her as they sipped on the coffee that had been provided while they waited on their breakfast.

“I suppose this is the part where you all catch me up on what I’ve missed, then?”

Snape gave a nod, clearly having decided that he was going to be the one to tell her, and launched into his speech at the precise moment that Vector had taken a sip of coffee to wet her lips, thus preventing her from taking over the conversation for herself.

_Damn Slytherins._ Hermione thought to herself with an internal chuckle.

Snape’s voice was low as he spoke, his words clearly only being meant for the three witches seated with him, and Hermione idly wondered if he’d cast some sort of spell around them to prevent others from attempting to overhear them. Despite the picturesque view of the students, after all, more than one student from any of the houses could have a loved one tied to Voldemort or were even tied to Voldemort themselves.

“The morning after your attack, we received word that the Dark Lord and his followers had been spotted near Edinborough. I was Summoned shortly thereafter, and he announced to his inner circle his plans to take over Hogsmeade in an effort to gain entry to the castle. I was… Sent back with a message for Dumbledore that I shall _not_ be sharing again, but the message’s meaning was clear: I am coming, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me now.”

Hermione spared a glance out over the sea of students before her, noting that more than a few faces - faces she’d considered friendly and not so much - staring back at her, and she wondered if any of those faces might’ve helped her attacker? Might’ve come to her aid?

She simply didn’t know anymore…

“What happened then?” Hermione prompted, returning her attention to Snape, though there was the familiar prickly feeling of being watched settling over her again that she didn’t like and she did her best not to fidget.

“He arrived that very evening. The villagers didn’t even get an opportunity to fight back, it all happened so quickly. He’s laid charms and hexes down to prevent them from fighting back, and further charms to alert him if anyone enters the village from the outside or if someone inside tries to leave.”

“Do you think he’s found them yet?”

Hermione was aware of Vector and Ginny looking at her oddly, though Snape had been able to pick up the meaning of her question easily enough.

“I’ve… Been checking, but as of yet, no, there’s no sign he’s made any sort of discovery.”

Hermione shook her head at that. “That seems odd to me, sir.”

“The devil are you two on about?” Vector asked as she carefully peeled an orange.

“We believe the Dark Lord was using an inside source, Septima,” Snape carefully answered. “A source that might’ve known alternate ways into the castle through Hogsmeade.”

“Is that possible?” She shot back, her tone incredulous.

Ginny was staring rather pointedly at Hermione, and Hermione realized that Ginny had likely put a few somethings together for herself but she gave a single shake of her head to say ‘not here’ knowing it was a conversation that would be better held in private.

Snape was still talking though, and it was an easy distraction for a few minutes, so Hermione tuned back into the conversation.

“-we don’t know how many there could be, unfortunately.”

Well, that was strictly true, either, but Hermione wasn’t going to be the one to correct him, not when it was highly likely that Snape was being vague on purpose.

_Does he ever allow himself to turn **off**?_

“But you think that, this source, it’s been stopped?”

“At least partially, yes, though we don’t know for how long. It’s an extremely complicated and delicate situation, as you are no doubt aware.”

“I’ve seen the numbers, Severus,” Vector replied with another chuckle, and Hermione felt a familiar tingle in her fingers at the sound. “It’s more delicate and complicated than even _you_ know.”

The conversation soon turned to more mundane matters, however, as it started to become more and more obvious that the unlikely quartet was beginning to gather something of an audience, and Hermione wondered if it was always like this or if she was simply noticing it more right at that moment.

Maybe that was why she didn’t immediately notice Draco staring at her, perhaps, sitting with his old group of friends under the points counter, but she felt her back stiffen a touch when her gaze met his.

He was uncomfortable, for sure, and it shocked her to realize that she’d gotten good enough at reading him at this point that she could figure that out, especially considering just how nonchalant he would’ve looked to her even a few months previously.

But his back was a little straighter than normal, and he was fidgeting with an apple whereas normally his hands were a bit more still. His smirk - while not out of place - seemed a bit more pronounced than usual, and it made Hermione think that he was possibly forcing it a bit.

His eyes though… His eyes were what were killing her, and Hermione had to look away from the intensity in them.

He was scared. Truly and _properly_ scared, and Hermione had several guesses as to why that might’ve been, the least of which being the presence of a dark army having taken up camp just a few kilometers from their current position.

She couldn’t - wouldn’t - hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds, instead returning to stare at the orange in her hands as she tried to will her fingers to cooperate long enough for her to peel it, silently cursing the numbness in the digits and desperately wishing for an answer to a question that she couldn’t even entirely form.

Eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to munching on a piece of toast, occasionally glaring down at the orange as it silently mocked her from the far side of her plate.

It was during one of those glaring moments that she became aware of the Hall having fallen silent, and she looked up to notice that Dumbledore had come to stand at his podium, looking out at the gathered students and faculty as he waited to start his speech.

“There are dark days ahead of us,” He began, his voice quiet, almost resigned, and Hermione felt something inside of her shift suddenly, felt it click and then turn in a different direction.

“You all… All of you… There is _so much_ potential here. For greatness and goodness and strength and intelligence. You could be whatever - _who_ ever - you wanted to be, and I wish, if nothing else, that you remember that _that_ is what I want you to have as your Headmaster. Unfortunately, though, we are a divided World and thus a divided school.

“I know some of you hate me and what I believe in and stand for,” He continued, the room having gone so quiet and so still that despite the fact that Dumbledore was practically whispering, every ear heard every word as if it were being shouted. “But I can not find it in my heart to be angry with you about that.

“I can only hope that, when the time comes to stand for what _you_ believe in, you will pick with your heart and not with what others may have wanted your mind to be. Love me or hate me, I believe there is one thing we can all agree on: Hogwarts is our _home_ and we should love and respect it for as long as we all shall live.”

Silence followed his words for a long moment and then another moment still. If Dumbledore had been expecting applause, he was going to be sorely disappointed when none arrived.

Slowly, though, the faint sounds of whispers and careful murmurs began to ripple through the assembled again, and while no one was addressing Dumbledore outright, it was obvious by the tone in the room that his words were at least being discussed and debated.

It made Hermione wonder if it was another manipulation tactic on Dumbledore’s part, but she kept the thought to herself, instead turning to finish off the coffee in her mug and glare at her unpeeled orange some more.

Except… the orange was peeled now, and a spare glance showed that the orange peels were residing on Snape’s plate…

He’d peeled it for her and she couldn’t even openly thank him in the moment.

Not that it mattered. Not when she felt ice cold hands suddenly settle against her shoulders, her entire body going rigid as she felt someone lean over her and press frigid lips against her ear…

And whisper in a low, raspy voice.

“You’ll be mine soon enough, poppet.”

And then those hands shifted, grabbed her neck again and squeezed.

She had passed out before her limp body had even begun to fall into Snape’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...okay, so that thing I said about cliffhangers? I didn't entirely mean it ;)
> 
> I'd love to know what you think though! You can even come yell at me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you are so inclined~


	23. Chapter 22: Veni et Mane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the morning come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all, truly.

A lot happened during the handful of minutes that Hermione was lying limp in Snape’s arms, but it went more or less something like this:

First, Snape nearly dropped her considering he hadn’t noticed she’d passed out until it was almost too late.

Second, Ginny had called out her name and Vector had yelped in shock at the same time which - naturally - had aroused the attention of everyone in the Great Hall, and more than a few people had tried to get closer to try and see what was going on.

Then, the Strain did what it always did and emerged in an attempt to protect Hermione, though it had little choice but to encircle Snape as well considering he was cradling her body to keep her from hitting the floor, a curious fact that more than a few watchers took note of.

And then, to top all of it off, all of the light that had been streaming in through the windows in the Great Hall suddenly… Stopped. Went away with a growing darkness that everyone felt as well as saw and groups of students started to huddle closer together all of a sudden, not realizing that they were unconsciously looking for safety in numbers.

Hermione started to rouse again after a few minutes, curling into the warmth that had surrounded her and begun to creep into her system, her muscles loosening after having felt so frozen and stiff for literally months.

Her eyes started to flutter open again, though there was a distinct frown line between her eyebrows and the noise she made was certainly not one of contentment.

But as her eyes opened fully and she took in where she was and what was happening, well… the frown started to fall away again.

She could make out the sound of muffled yelling from outside the Strain’s protective bubble, and she turned her eyes away from Snape’s so she could try and pinpoint it, realizing that Ginny and Vector were both trying to get their attention.

Maybe because the Strain wasn’t blue anymore. Not at all.

It was red. A warning, but Hermione could tell that it wasn’t just a warning for others to stay away.

It was a warning to her of the sudden changes that had befallen them all.

“Oh, _fuck_...”

“...Granger?”

“I-It’s not the Solstice, sir… It’s the Equinox.”

“But you **told** me-”

“I _know_ what I told you, sir, but something’s changed and it-”

“-it can’t be tomorrow, Hermione. We’re not prepared.”

She turned tear-filled eyes towards him, somehow knowing that behind the stoic gaze he met her with was a man who was perhaps just as terrified as she was.

“I-I’m sorry, sir… I don’t know how to change it back.”

But there were other things happening, more people yelling at them through the bubble, and Hermione recalled the Strain back into her - it did so rather reluctantly - and pushed herself up onto shaky feet as she climbed off of Snape’s lap, feeling him come up to stand behind her a moment later.

She resisted the urge to lean back into his warmth, but only just, though it was with a deepening sense of fear that she realized just how the last few minutes must’ve looked to everyone around them.

Her passing out into his arms, being surrounded by a sentient math problem that seemed to _like_ Snape, the brush of his fingers against her lower back when she wobbled under the weight of it all - the gentle reminder that he would catch her should she fall.

How would all of it look, especially when coupled with so many other things that had happened? The late night conversations, walking together to and from places… The train ride back to Hogwarts after Christmas…

Now this?

Dumbledore was fast approaching, though, while McGonagall did her best to try and get the general student population back under control, to try and calm them down after darkness had seemingly fallen over them all.

“Miss Granger! I have _warned_ you abou-” Dumbledore was glaring at her with the strength of the killing curse, and in any other situation she might’ve wilted a bit under that look.

But now?

“He’ll be here by sunup tomorrow, Headmaster.” Her tone was low, even, full of more surety than anything else Hermione had ever said, and she ignored the reactions that she heard from those around her as she pressed on.

“Something’s made him change his plans, and now he’ll be here in less than twenty four hours. Do you _really_ want to spend that time berating me?”

Dumbledore was still glaring, visibly clenching his teeth as he fought against whatever words were threatening to spill out of him, but eventually he resigned himself to accepting his fate.

“Get her back to Avila, Severus,” He carefully muttered, sparing a glance at the man in question. “Then I expect you to join the rest of us in the staffroom to discuss preparations.”

“Of course, Headmaster.”

Hermione only allowed herself to wobble once Dumbledore had turned his back on her, but Snape had reached out to take her elbow in hand, while - interestingly enough - Vector had done the same on her other side.

“I want to come with you.” She was saying, but Snape was shaking his head.

“Avila itself will not allow it, Septima,” He replied. “You know as much.”

“She’s going to need my hel-”

“Perhaps so, but not right now.” His voice was quiet for all that it was gently firm. “Go help Minerva with the students. She needs you more right now.”

Something silent passed between the two professors then that Hermione didn’t entirely understand, but she was given little opportunity to think about it as Snape was gently starting to guide her away, Ginny right behind them with the rest of Avila following along as well once they noticed what was happening.

As they walked, Ginny took over with helping Hermione walk, giving Snape a better opportunity to assess their surroundings, and Hermione idly noted that Draco was doing much the same, bringing up the rear of the group and keeping his eyes focused outward to make sure they weren’t being followed or watched.

The sky looked ominous, with dark storm clouds starting to roll in, and Hermione wondered if they were natural or magic-made. If the crackle in the air had anything to say about it, she would hazard a guess for the latter, and the static in her hair and the tips of her fingertips only solidified the idea.

But Snape was quick to usher everyone inside of Avila once they got to the fountain, following in himself only after Draco had descended the stairs as well, though everyone was quick to notice that things were _different_ now within their house.

It was as though Avila itself was reacting to the truth which Hermione had uncovered, though how it knew was a question to which no one could even begin to hazard an answer.

The waterfall had dried up, for starters, and the vines that had been blooming since they’d first entered all those months ago had let the flowers fall to the floor, the vines thickening almost as if they were strengthening themselves for the following day. Books that had been left strewn about had all been magicked away to reside on shelves, and the couches and chairs that had taken up much of the common area had been replaced by a long, oval table about which several chairs were placed.

Avila, it seemed, had turned itself into something of a War Room.

Snape, it seemed, was either unphased by the sight before him or couldn’t be bothered to _get_ phased by it, instead pulling out his wand and silently casting several different spells about the room, the purposes of which Hermione could only hazard guesses about.

“Everyone take a seat,” He murmured once he was satisfied that his spells were working the way they were supposed to, watching for a long moment as everyone did as they were asked before turning to take the one chair that remained.

“What’s going on, professor?” Addy asked from where she sat a couple of chairs down from Hermione.

“You all are aware of the Dark Lord’s presence in Hogsmeade. The Headmaster thought it prudent to share that information with you from the beginning, and I did not disagree with him. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say, and now is certainly the best time to be both.”

“This feels like more though, sir,” Ginny piped up, seated immediately to Hermione’s left.

“Unfortunately, Miss Weasley, you are correct.” Snape turned to look fully at Hermione then, giving her a nod of what could only be encouragement.

“As most of you know,” Hermione quietly started to speak, feeling decidedly uncomfortable all of a sudden, “I have been working on a particularly complicated Arithmancy equation known as the Ophiuchus Strain since the beginning of the school year.”

Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, letting her eyes slide closed as she allowed the Strain to spill out of her and form, reopening her eyes to watch as it moved to hover over the center of the table.

“What many of you may _not_ realize, however, is what the Strain is about.”

“Well, it’s a prediction spell, isn’t it?” A third year - Deidre Spinley - piped up, looking as confused as the many of the rest of her housemates.

“Essentially, yes, as that’s what Arithmancy is about. However, this _particular_ equation is specifically about us in regards to the final battle, which…”

She trailed off, taking a moment to steel herself in preparation of what she was about to say.

Once she admitted it, there was no going back.

“...which is going to be happening tomorrow. Just after dawn.”

The sudden cacophony that hit her was enough to make her fall back down into her seat, her eyes filling with tears as she heard the fear in everyone’s voices.

Eventually though, Snape managed to calm everyone back down and to reclaim the floor, arms crossed over his chest as he began to speak again.

“I know this news is a shock to all of you. It was to me as well, I can assure you. However, we have been preparing for this since the beginning of the school year, and some of us for even longer than that.”

“What do we do, sir?” Draco quietly asked from where he was seated across from Hermione. “Not all of us seated here are fighters, and I think it’s best if we’re honest about that up front.”

There were a few murmured agreements with Draco’s assessment - particularly from some of the younger students, many of whom Hermione was surprised could even speak from the fear they were clearly feeling - and even Snape was nodding in agreement with him.

“You’re correct, and I can’t deny that, Draco. But we were all chosen to represent Avila for a _reason_. I believe that reason has presented itself.”

He lifted a hand to silence any protests before they could get started, immediately pushing forward to clarify what he meant.

“I’m not suggesting we all go into the fight with our wands raised. If I were to have it my way, _not a single **one** of you_ would be going into that fight tomorrow, but I’m not foolish enough to think I can stop you all.

“That being said, there are more ways to fight what is to come than with wands. Some of you are particularly skilled with healing spells and potions, and should go to assist Madame Pomfrey. Others are good with general morale, and would do well to stay with the younger students who will be kept in the Great Hall to be watched over. All of you, though… All of you have strengths the likes of which you do not yet realize.”

“And those of us that _will_ be joining you, sir?” Ginny piped up again, her old Gryffindor tendencies clearly shining through in that moment.

“Be smart. We Avilians have a keen advantage over the Dark Lord’s forces.”

“How so?” Addy asked.

“He doesn’t know where we are,” Hermione clarified. “We’ve come into a bit of intelligence recently that suggests he’s been studying maps of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade in an attempt to gain access to the castle via hidden means. However, Avila isn’t _on_ any of those maps, and thus-”

“-and thus he won’t know which direction we might be coming from,” Draco finished. “Everyone _in_ the castle knows that we’re not exactly a part of it, but they don’t realize just how far away we are or even which direction we might be coming from.”

“But how do we know where _he’s_ coming from?” Addy asked, and there were a few nods from other heads around the table.

“The Strain,” Hermione clarified. “It’s been able to determine which direction His main forces will be coming from, and since we know _that_ , it’ll be easier for us to counter.”

“Does it tell you who wins?” Jamie, a tiny little second year, asked, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Unfortunately, no.” Hermione swallowed hard after that admission, pulling into herself a bit as she felt yet another wave of cold start to overtake her. “Too many things can happen and change tomorrow for us to know for sure.”

“But Harry isn’t even here-” Ginny suddenly mentioned, and Hermione blinked, that particular thought having not dawned on her previously. “-so how can this be the final battle?”

Before anyone could attempt to answer though, an alarm went off, a keen siren that echoed about the stone walls of the common room that had everyone clapping their hands over their ears to try and muffle the sudden ringing they felt in their very bones.

And then, a deathly sort of quiet fell before a voice overtook them, and Hermione felt herself go cold for an entirely different reason.

_”Hogwarts…”_ Voldemort’s high, cold voice rattled about inside of her head. Inside of **everyone’s** head. _“You have shown great courage thus far in protecting yourselves from me, but the time to surrender is upon you._

_“I am at your front gate, and I am in your forest, and I am all around you. There is nothing you can do to stop me, no action you can take that will prevent me from claiming what is mine. I will have Hogwarts, and I will have your loyalty.”_

There was a pause in his speech as he let out a chuckle, the sound tinkling like broken glass in their ears, and Hermione reached out a hand to take a hold of Ginny’s, squeezing tight just as the redhead did.

_“I will take what is mine by force, if necessary, but I do not wish this. Magical blood will be spilled if you resist, and why should we waste such a precious commodity? Let me in, allow me to walk your halls and be amongst you as your leader, let my followers be your brethren, and all will be well._

_“You have until sunup tomorrow to make your decision. I speak to you, Dumbledore, directly now when I say that if I have **not** heard from you by then, your decision will have been made for you, and I will claim what is mine with all the force that is therein required._

The voice faded away then, leaving a sort of dull ringing in Hermione’s ears that made her shake her head to try and dispel, and she was quick to note a few others at the table do the same thing.

Sparing a glance at Snape, she was perhaps a touch surprised to note that he was looking at her as well, though his gaze soon moved onwards to the others as if to assess how each of them were faring after what had just transpired.

She was still holding onto Ginny’s hand, though the redhead was rubbing absently at her temple with the other, eyes closed as she tried to regain some control over her breathing.

“...tomorrow can’t be the final battle…” Hermione heard Ginny whisper to herself, and it made her remember what Ginny had been saying before Voldemort interrupted their meeting.

“Harry isn’t here…” She carefully uttered, trying to latch onto something, an idea that was trying to form under the weight of everything going on around them.

“...Granger?” Draco asked, the question raising more than a few heads as everyone started to look at Hermione again.

“...Harry isn’t here, so how can tomorrow be the final battle?”

“But you’ve seen it,” Snape countered, his arms once more crossed over his chest, though Hermione noted that there was something hesitating to form in his eyes… Something that could almost be hope.

“...but what if I _didn’t_? What if what I saw was only _a_ battle, and not _the_ battle?”

_What if I die tomorrow… and it’s what spurs Harry into enough action to go on and win? What if that’s why the Strain doesn’t show anything past tomorrow? Because I won’t be there to interpret it?_

Snape was looking at her, almost through her, and Hermione could guess at what he was thinking, wishing a bit herself that they were alone so she could share with him what all she’d seen, so he could _know_ what she knew…

“Should some of us begin relocating into the castle, sir?” Addy quietly asked, breaking the silence that had fallen about the room. “Those of us who won’t be fighting, I mean? If, as you say, our services are better used there…?”

“It might be safest to do so now rather than later-” Snape quietly agreed. “-though I urge you to use extreme caution while doing so. Do your best to remain hidden in your travels so as not to reveal our location to any outsiders who may be looking for signs of us. Those of you who _are_ staying… I would suggest you try and get some rest while you can. Dawn… Will be here before any of us want it to be.”

“Veni et mane,” Ginny quietly murmured, and slowly, some around her were doing the same, murmuring those same three words over and over again until everyone - even Snape - had taken up the call and were calling out in unison.

“Veni et mane!”

_Let the morning come._ The motto of House Avila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that! I'm not (technically) ending on a cliffhanger for once! You proud of me?
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts, and feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined :)


	24. Chapter 23: The Avilians Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made and others are dashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was peer-pressured into posting this today despite the fact that I just posted a new chapter yesterday. You're welcome :)

Ginny and Draco saw to escorting the younger students out of the House and back to the castle, helping them all maintain a low profile as they traveled in twos and threes towards what would hopefully be more safety, though when they returned, it was with a hand-written message for Hermione and Snape.

From Dumbledore.

“He wants us to try and encourage Avila to open up to outsiders?” Hermione scoffed as she read over the note for herself. “He knows we can’t do that!”

“This house-” Snape countered. “-is likely the most fortified area of the entire castle’s grounds.”

“Only those that the house deems worthy can enter it. You said so yourself the night we first came down here, sir.”

Snape paused for a moment to think it over before slowly replying; “No, I said _Avila_ deems us worthy. Are we not Avila ourselves?”

_Shit._

“That’s not a loophole I like, Severus,” Draco muttered, and Hermione was staring at the blond with open shock on her features for his sudden candor with their head of house.

“Neither do I-” Snape replied, seemingly unphased by the sudden switch to something far more casual. “-but I believe it’s a loophole that Dumbledore is keen on utilizing.”

“Well, what if we _don’t_ deem him worthy?” Hermione countered back, dropping the formality as much as she felt comfortable doing so. “I’m not saying we can’t invite some of the others, but I stand by my assessment from a few days ago that Dumbledore is not to be wholly trusted anymore.”

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed.

“You don’t know what I saw, Gin. He’s losing his touch with reality, and we’re all going to fall with him if we’re not careful.”

“Who _would_ you deem worthy then, Granger?” Draco and Snape asked in unison, sparing a glance at one another, though Snape certainly won the eyebrow-arching contest.

“Vector,” She quickly replied, looking more confident than she certainly felt in that moment, though maybe it helped that the action of moving everyone out had helped warm her up a touch.

“Vector, perhaps McGonagall and Flitwi-.”

“We can’t move the entire staff here and leave out the Headmaster.” Snape shook his head, dismissing the idea. “If Dumbledore wants to set this up as a new war room, I’m not entirely sure we can stop him.”

“But how could we even get him here - get _any_ of them here, really - without outsiders being made aware of it? And who would watch over the school if we’re all here?”

_I know the answers you’re looking for…_

Hermione sighed and then made a quiet excuse before letting the Strain out, somehow knowing that if the others could see what she was talking to, maybe they wouldn’t think her quite as crazy.

“Alright then… What do you know?”

_There is more than one way into this House, Hermione. Ask Severus about the suit of armor in his office._

“Granger?” She heard Snape rumble from where he’d come to stand beside her, and she heaved a sigh before turning towards him.

“The Strain wants me to ask you about the suit of armor in your office?”

Snape looked perplexed about that. “There’s one there, yes, but…”

He trailed off suddenly, as if something was starting to dawn on him, and he turned away and began making his way towards the office in question, making a beckoning motion with a hand over his shoulder to indicate that they should be following him.

Draco and Hermione did, but Ginny remained behind to begin studiously overlooking the Marauder’s Map which she’d spread out on top of the table before her.

“Severus?” Draco asked once they were ensconced in Snape’s office, the Strain having trailed along quietly behind them.

“...this suit of armor… have either of you seen it before?”

They both shook their head before turning to look at one another and share a look of confusion.

“No, sir...” Hermione replied. “...but have you?”

Snape gave a small, hesitant nod before reaching out with a hand to rest it next to the crest that was detailed on the chest of the armor, leaning closer to study it as if for the first time.

“...all five house are represented on this crest. I… had never noticed that before.”

Draco and Hermione stepped closer at that to get a closer look, wondering how they could’ve missed something as monumental as _that_ for themselves.

_See? And this suit of armor has a brother. Speak the password to it, Hermione, and you shall find out why._

“T-The Strain says we should speak the password to it, sir. That this suit of armor… It has a brother?”

Snape peered at her over his shoulder, though there was a dawning realization there that Hermione both did and most assuredly _didn’t_ like.

“...I believe the brother is just outside of the Headmaster’s office.”

“But that would mean-”

“...veni et mane…” Snape murmured, not even giving Hermione time to form the argument that was starting to bubble in her throat, and the suit of armor shook itself to life before taking a step forward towards them-

-and then took another off to the side, the wall that had been solid behind it suddenly shifting, the bricks pulling apart to reveal a spiral staircase that seemed to climb into absolutely nothing.

“The two of you stay here,” Snape was quietly instructing, his wand sliding down into his hand from his sleeve. “Guard Avila while I investigate. I think I know where this leads, but I’m not sure if I like the implications of it.”

The duo nodded in understanding, and Hermione noted that Draco had pulled his own wand out the same as she had at Snape’s instructions, and they watched as their Head of House began the ascent up into the inky blackness and disappeared from their sight.

“I’m going to go check in on Ginny,” Draco quietly murmured after a long moment of quiet. “See if anything new is happening on that map of yours.”

Hermione gave a nod of understanding, telling him she’d yell if anything happened and then moved to make herself comfortable in one of the chairs in Snape’s office while she once more settled in to study the Strain.

She was pleased to note that it had returned to its usual shade of blue, though the new numbers swimming throughout it made her head spin, and she squinted as she tried to pull them out to study them closer, letting out a huff of frustration when it didn’t work the way it usually did.

There were numbers that were so intertwined now that separating them was actually impossible… Lines that Hermione was starting to realize tied in directly with the dreams, the _visions_ she’d been having for months now.

“...one silver eye and one brown…”

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Miss Granger?”

Immediately, Hermione went on alert, straightening up in her seat as she looked over to note the Headmaster standing there by Snape’s desk, his usual twinkle back in his eyes, though what it meant, well… Hermione could only hazard a guess.

But she watched as Vector emerged from the staircase to join them, followed soon enough by Snape again who had a curiously dark expression clouding his usually-glittering black eyes.

Hermione didn’t immediately respond to Dumbledore’s question, instead taking in the look on Vector’s face and feeling a grin start to spread over her own.

“You ready to see the rest of it, Tima?” She quietly asked, reaching out a hand towards the Arithmancy professor in invitation, not in the least bit surprised when it was taken.

“I am _so incredibly **jealous**_ of you right now, Severus,” Vector murmured as she looked around his office, but she was nodding at Hermione’s question, following along after the younger witch as she was led out into the common area where Hermione noted that Draco and Ginny were still bent over the Marauders’ Map…

...standing rather close to one another.

But they straightened up and sprang a bit apart when they heard the gasp from Vector, turning around towards the sound with surprised looks on their features as they realized who had joined them.

“So, the suit of armor then…?” Draco asked, sparing a glance towards Hermione, who nodded in confirmation at the question he wasn’t quite asking.

“...this is incredible…” Vector was saying to herself, having let go of Hermione’s hand to spin in a slow circle, trying to take everything in before her gaze settled on the kitchen of all things and she immediately made a beeline for it.

“Anyone else want a cuppa?”

There was a small chorus of ‘yes please’ that came up at the question before Dumbledore cleared his throat and returned everyone’s attention to him.

“I am sure that, by now, you have realized why I am here-”

“Yes, Professor Snape shared your letter with us,” Hermione replied, her voice rather flat. “For the record, sir? I don’t approve and think you would be better off finding somewhere else to make your War Room.”

“Miss Granger-!”

“She has the right to give her opinion, Headmaster,” Snape murmured from where he was standing behind the old wizard. “Avila is supposed to be the place where new ideas are formed, not the place where old ones are upheld.”

Dumbledore was visibly fuming at that, but the tension was broken when Vector came back into the room carrying a tray with a teapot and cups on it for everyone.

“...did I miss something?”

She hadn’t actually, of course, but it was clear that she was trying to change the subject before things got further out of hand, and when no one replied she gave a shrug and carried the tray over to the table where she went about preparing a cup for everyone.

“...I agree with Hermione,” Draco carefully murmured after a long, tense moment of silence. “At least in the sense that Avila shouldn’t be a War Room. It’s not what it was designed for an-”

“With all due respect, Mister Malfoy-” Dumbledore interrupted. “-but as head of the Order of the Phoenix, it is _my responsibility_ to ensure that the best measures are taken to ensure our victory in this fight.”

“I understand that, _sir_ -” Malfoy countered. “-but perhaps what you aren’t taking into consideration is how this house works. This is a place of ideas, of pushing the boundaries of what we know so we can further not just ourselves, but everyone else as well.”

Hermione glanced over at Snape to notice him mouth the words ‘twenty points to Avila’ and barely held back a giggle, and schooling her features enough to hide her amused grin was **difficult**.

“This house-” Draco continued. “-isn’t about sticking to the status quo. It’s why we were all sorted and brought in from everywhere else. Different ideas brought together to form new ones. If what you’re looking for is more of the same, sir-” He shrugged. “-this isn’t the place for it.”

“While I’m not usually the sort to take sides on these sorts of issues-” Vector suddenly cut in, leaning back against the table a bit. “-I have to admit that I’m in agreement with the Avilians, sir. This doesn’t look like the sort of place that would make a good War Room, and I dare say that - as much as I may _want_ to spend the rest of my life here - I think we’d all be better off staying in the castle.”

“I, too, think the best course of action would be for us to set up in the castle proper, Headmaster,” Snape murmured, having come to stand between Hermione and Vector, and Hermione struggled to avoid leaning towards his warmth, instead wrapping her hands tighter around the mug in her hands.

“Are you all against me, then?” Dumbledore asked.

“On the contrary-” Snape replied, not giving anyone else the chance to. “-I think it’s just that we all believe it would be prudent for you to remain where you are needed. Hogwarts needs yo-”

“Avila _is_ Hogwarts, Severu-”

“-Avila stands alone in this, Headmaster. We will provide commentary and help as necessary, but we will do so on our own terms, as _we_ think proper. If you want us, if you want our ideas, you will respect our wishes on this matter.”

Dumbledore looked around him then, realizing that he was alone, and schooled his features to hide his bitterness and disappointment before finally responding.

“Very well. Avila will not serve as War Room, then. I can only hope that you all know what you are doing.”

“We do-” Hermione, Draco, Ginny and Severus all chorused, though it was Severus who continued on.

“-and Headmaster? Please remember that you must be invited each and every time you wish to enter these chambers. The suit of armor can only be activated by an Avilian under their own free will.”

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to snarl at that, but managed to keep himself in check, turning to march back out through the way he’d come with Severus right behind him to make sure he actually did.

“Well, now…” Vector muttered into the silence after a beat. “...you all sure do know how to make things interesting, don’t you?”

The trio turned to look at her and all immediately broke out into soft, relieved laughter, and when Snape returned it would be to find the four of them sitting at the table with their cups of tea, the Strain floating above their heads as they all studied it.

Well, attempted to, as Draco and Ginny would have it.

Snape pulled up a chair between Hermione and Vector, cradling his own cup in his hands as long fingers wrapped around it, though he appeared to just be holding it for a moment as he, too, turned his eyes towards the equation.

“...what can you tell us?”

“There’s still no clear-cut ending,” Hermione murmured, taking a sip of her tea to wet her lips before continuing.

“But I think I can say with a bit more certainty that tomorrow isn’t the final battle like I’d originally thought.”

“Harry isn’t there,” Ginny muttered, clearly making more of a statement than asking a question, though Hermione nodded all the same.

“Correct. As far as I can tell, neither he or Ron will be here tomorrow, so whatever happens, well… it won’t be the final showdown.”

“Why do you think you’d originally interpreted it as happening on the Solstice?” Vector asked, peering closely at the numbers, and Hermione could tell that the elder witch was trying to translate in her head and re-familiarize herself with the equation she’d once played host to herself.

“That _was_ the date the numbers originally added up to,” Hermione replied. “Though a part of me wonders if that date still holds.”

“How do you mean?”

“The Solstice was important originally for a _reason_.” Hermione waved her wand over the Strain, noting the way a few of the numbers lit up with the action in response. “We may not be aware of that reason, but we can’t deny it all the same. Whatever made Him decide that tomorrow is better-”

“-it’s not to say that the Solstice suddenly became _un_ important.” Snape finished for her, recognizing where Hermione had been going with her explanation.

“There’s also the matter of Potter’s absence,” Draco added from his place beside Ginny. “Him being _the chosen one_ means he sort of has to be present, yeah? I think it’s fairly obvious that he isn’t here right now, and with the Dark Lord’s spells placed about Hogsmeade, we’d know if he attempted it.”

“I’m not sure he’d even know to come here,” Ginny murmured, and Hermione turned to look at her friend then.

Because Ginny seemed… Oddly okay with that, and it made Hermione’s heart break just a little bit.

_How much have you lost in your absence, Harry? Truly?_

“I’ve been thinking about that, too, actually,” Hermione went on after a moment, reclaiming the floor. “And I think that um… Whatever happens tomorrow? It’s what gets Harry to come back.”

“How so?” Vector asked, and Hermione saw Snape nod out of the corner of her eye.

“Hogwarts was the first _real_ home Harry ever knew,” She offered. “He loved it here from the moment he first laid eyes on it, and if he found out that it was under attack? That _we_ \- his friends and loved ones - were under attack? I don’t think anything on this planet could stop him from coming back to us.”

Because Harry had to be in there somewhere still. Hermione was sure of it. Regardless of the hold that Voldemort had claimed on him, regardless of the fact that he was probably a Horcrux, Harry Potter just _had_ to still be in there somewhere.

_**Maybe I won’t die for nothing…** _

_Oh, my sweet child…_ The Strain answered. _...whoever said you were going to die?_

_**But the flash of green, and the way she and I fall into one another, I thought-** _

_You’re forgetting other details, Hermione. Remember what you’ve seen of after._

_**You don’t go** _ **on _after._** __

_I do, you just haven’t learned how to read me yet. But you will… After tomorrow._

Hermione didn’t know what that meant, because what else could be green besides the killing curse?

What else could her vision of tomorrow, of falling into the woman in red’s arms possibly mean if she wasn’t going to die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. The next chapter. It's a _whopper_ , clocking in at around 6,000 words. I still need to do some edits, so don't expect anything for a few days, but you'll be getting _answers_ in that chapter.
> 
> As always, I'd love to know what you think. Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you are so inclined, and in a slightly newer vein come find me on the [Hearts & Cauldrons Snamione Discord Server!](https://discord.gg/BQfXk5) We're always looking for new members, but it's a super chill and super supportive group that was brought together for our mutual love of the Know-It-All and her favorite Bat of the Dungeons!


	25. Chapter 24: The Equinox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers spill forth... But maybe they bring about more questions as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are finally getting some answers in this absolute _beast_ of a chapter!

Eventually, the conversation wound down and everyone turned in for the night, and Vector found that Avila had made accomodations for her as well, though Hermione noted that she seemed to want to speak with Snape in private as the rest of them turned towards their respective dorms.

Hermione, for all that she felt absolutely exhausted, found that sleep wouldn’t come easily for her that night, with fears about the following day plaguing her and overrunning anything else that she might’ve been feeling.

The Strain wasn’t much of a comfort either, for all that she kept reassuring Hermione that things would be fine if she would just relax and let them happen.

But how could she? Even if she _didn’t_ die as the Strain kept trying to reassure her, something terrible _was_ about to happen to her.

Eventually, she did drift off, and it was as though the Strain was trying to reassure her by controlling the dreams she was having - all of them filled with a dark haired man who did unspeakably good things to her body - but she still felt exhausted when she awoke a few hours later and gave up on trying to go back to sleep.

Even her shower - for all that it was hot - did little to comfort her, but she took the time to braid her hair before dressing and venturing out towards the Avila common room.

She wasn’t alone, though.

“Good morning, sir.”

“You’re up early, Granger,” Snape replied, his voice a lower timbre than usual given the time of day.

“You’re one to talk,” She quietly teased, giving him a gentle smile when he turned to mock-glare at her.

He didn’t respond, but did hold out a cup towards her, letting her take a good hold of it before carefully filling it with the tea he’d been brewing.

“Did you sleep at all?”

She gave a small shrug in response. “Some. Not enough, I’m sure. You?”

He shook his head at that. “Little. I’m… Expecting a summons soon.”

“From Him?”

“From both of them.”

And, as if he’d willed it into being, he suddenly grimaced and set his tea aside, rubbing absently at his left arm and making a keen point to not look at the witch beside him as he did so.

“...what are you going to do?”

“I have a short amount of time in which to respond. I… Must, but I’m sure I will be sent back with another message for Dumbledore. The Dark Lord’s message to all of us yesterday was clear enough, and the Headmaster has not yet responded.”

“Which is a response in and of itself,” Hermione replied, holding her tea a bit tighter, though she hadn’t yet taken her eyes off of his arm, wondering just what exactly the mark on his arm looked like in that moment.

Before anything else could be said though, a siren broke out much like it had the previous evening, and Hermione dropped her teacup in her haste to cover her ears suddenly.

And then, once again, Voldemort’s high voice rang out through her head, vibrating around in her skull as he forced his way inside her and everyone else’s mind.

_”Your time quickly draws to a close, Hogwarts, and still I receive no word from you, yet… You **dare** to try and bring in reinforcements? You were warned about the enchantments surrounding Hogsmeade, yet still you try and let outsiders pass through?”_

Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of that, and it was clear by the look in Snape’s eyes that he didn’t either.

_”Those few who entered… I have found and taken them all. All but one, but he shall serve as a warning to you. Give me what I want, or his fate will be yours. I have sent him towards you. Maybe you will find him in time?”_

There was that shrill, tinkling laugh again, and Hermione didn’t dare stop the shudder that ran through her as she heard it.

_”I, however, doubt it. You have two hours, by my calculations, before dawn. Make them count if you must, but we all know that it would be easier to give yourself... to **me**.”_

The voice ended just as quickly as it had started, and Hermione was shaking her head to try and dispel the ringing, surprised when a sudden warmth flooded down her arm from where Snape’s hand had landed on her shoulder.

“...be strong, Hermione.”

She looked up at him then, really _looking_ at him as she took in those three little words and gave a small nod in answer before slowly reaching out to rest her hand on his upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as she felt more warmth flood into her system with the touch.

“You, too… Severus.”

Snape looked idly amused at her attempt at using his first name, but he didn’t counter it, instead giving her a nod before stepping back, quickly sliding back into his usual indifferent persona.

“The summons is growing stronger, but I shall… Likely see you soon.”

She nodded at that, once more wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill, a thought blooming in her mind about why she only felt warm around him.

And then, just like that, he was gone, swooping through the common room and out through the fountain to join the other Death Eaters beside their master’s side.

_Will you ever be given the opportunity to be your own master, Severus?_ She idly wondered.

There was a tingle in her fingertips at that, but Hermione could only guess at what exactly that meant.

_Stop evading the truth, you daft child!_

But she ignored the Strain, and returned her attention to cleaning up her dropped teacup and magicking away the mess.

Suddenly, without warning, the Strain sprang to life and flooded out of her to surround her in a protective barrier, and it took Hermione a moment to realize that that horrible cold feeling, that terrible feeling of being _watched_ had fallen over her again.

“You won’t take her!” The Strain yelled, speaking through Hermione’s mouth, though it wasn’t her voice at all.

“I’ll take my poppet soon enough,” The phantom responded, and while it took her a moment, Hermione finally was able to make out a figure on the other side of the barrier.

Someone tall with shoulder-length hair. Broad shoulders… Likely once a man for all that they were disembodied now.

“What do you want with me?” She asked, her wand sliding into her hand from where it had been resting in the holster strapped to her arm.

“You? I don’t want _you_ , poppet. Not as you are… I want you as you _will be_.”

She didn’t understand what that meant, but before she could ask, the Strain surged forward and the phantom disintegrated, though somehow Hermione knew it was only temporary.

“Are you alright?” She heard someone call out, and she turned to note Ginny coming towards her with Draco hot on her heels.

It wouldn’t occur to her until much later that they’d come from the same direction.

She carefully recalled the Strain back into her, giving a nod before being enveloped in Ginny’s arms, her eyes sliding shut in the comfort she found there.

“The thing that attacked me was here again…” She clarified, soon launching into the full story at their prompting, both of them growing more concerned by the moment.

“So, whatever it is-” Draco was saying. “-it seems to have an understanding of what’s to come since it said it ‘wants what you’ll become’, whatever the bloody hell that means.”

“Do you think it wants the Strain?” Ginny asked. “Maybe it wants what it’ll become after today?”

Hermione shrugged, but it was as good a guess as any she could’ve made herself.

_We’ll protect each other, my child. I promise._

But there wasn’t as much comfort in the Strain’s words as Hermione could’ve wanted just then, but how could she negate them, especially today of all days?

Soon though, Hermione knew she couldn’t put off facing the day any longer, and she made her way back to her rooms to finish getting ready.

Or, as ready as she could be, all things considered.

Within the hour, she and the rest of the habitants of Avila began to slowly make their way topside again, creeping along in the pre-dawn light towards the castle, staying low to the ground as they did their best to stay out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

The plan had been to meet up at the castle at dawn and then sneak back to Avila with some willing participants to form a sort of second wave.

That was the _plan_ , at least.

As it was, they only made it as far as the greenhouses when the first attack spell hit the wards, sending a cascade of sparks rippling down the enchantments.

“Dawn approaches, Dumbledore!” Voldemort’s voice echoed around them, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “You have given us your answer, and now… Now my dear fellow, it is time to claim what is _mine!_.”

Hermione could only watch on in horror as attack spell after attack spell hit the wards, watching as they cascaded and multiplied from all sides.

They were completely surrounded.

“Hermione!”

The call immediately put her on alert, but she _knew_ that voice, and she was careening about trying to find the source of it, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized that a bruised and bloody Viktor Krum was stumbling towards her.

“Viktor!” She called out, rushing to his aid and barely catching him as he stumbled.

“Granger-!” Draco snapped at her, but he was there beside her in an instant, wrapped an arm around Viktor’s waist as he hauled him to his feet and Hermione mirrored him on the other side, and somehow between the two of them they managed to get him inside the closest greenhouse.

“What are you doing here?!” Hermione exclaimed, looking over her lover as they plopped him down on a clean workbench.

“I had to come to you,” He replied, giving her a smile, but Hermione didn’t respond in kind, not when she saw the hint of blood on his teeth.

“You’re a foolish man,” She replied, but she was already casting spells over him, trying to assess the damage.

It didn’t look good, but if she could get him to the castle… Get him to Pomfrey…

“I have so many questions right now,” Draco muttered with a shake of his head, but he knew he wasn’t likely to get any answers, so kept those questions to himself.

“I need to get him to Pomfrey.”

“I can Levicorpus him, but it’ll be harder for us to stay hidden.”

“...could we get him back to Avila? Use the armor in Snape’s office?”

“Not if we want to keep Avila a sec-”

But Draco was cut off by a horrible, deafening boom that was followed by an equally terrible screeching sound as hundreds of attack spells suddenly descended upon them, lighting up the sky even more than the rising sun with a myriad of colors that set the world absolutely ablaze with terror.

The wards, it would seem, had fallen.

Without thinking, Hermione took Draco by one hand and Krum by the other, concentrating hard as she apparated them all to the Hospital Ward, sending up a quick prayer of thanks to whatever god or goddess might’ve been listening when it actually worked.

It shouldn’t’ve, and she knew it.

“Madame Pomfrey!” She called out, not even bothering to explain how she’d gotten there as the MediWitch came scurrying towards them, shouting out a quick explanation that Viktor was bleeding internally and needed her before she turned on her heels and made her way back out, knowing but not particularly caring just then that Draco was right behind her.

“Granger!”

“Now isn’t the time, Malfoy!”

“You just did the impossible-”

“Just another _fucking_ Tuesday!”

Her tone was a bit more bitter than she’d meant it to be, but she couldn’t dwell on it, not when the world was literally falling apart around her.

She started skidding a bit as she rounded a corner and then made a dash for the main stairwell, somehow managing to jump from one moving piece to the other without falling and busting her ass, though Malfoy couldn’t make the jump after her and had to wait a bit for the stairs to align for him again.

But she couldn’t wait, and instead barrelled onward, feeling her lungs start to burn a bit from what she was putting them through, but she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

She started to slide again as she rounded the corner to the Great Hall, seeing McGonagall and Slughorn usher students inside, though she barely gave them pause as she ran past, hearing them call out to her but she kept going, still sliding a bit as she rounded another corner and then began the descent towards the dungeons.

She didn’t know _why_ she was heading towards the dungeons, but there was something screaming in her veins that it was where she belonged, and so she listened, running on pure instinct towards whatever was calling her.

Or, perhaps, calling what was _in_ her.

The Strain was tingling at her fingertips as blue lightning crackled in her hair, and if Hermione were to stop and think about it, she’d know she probably made quite the image in that moment, but how could she care?

She was practically in tears by the time she skidded to a stop once she’d made it to the end of a long hallway in the dungeons, sucking in ragged gasps of air as she reached out hands to steady herself, trying to figure out just why exactly she was there.

She’d bent over for a moment to collect herself, knowing the Strain would protect her should anyone try to attack her here, but when she straightened up, she noticed something curious.

In the space between where her hands rested on the stone wall, engraved into one of those very stones, was the Hogwarts crest.

The _real_ Hogwarts crest, with all five houses represented.

Without thinking, she reached out a hand and rested it over the crest, feeling her body warm suddenly before everything around her faded to black.

And another moment later, she was… Well, she didn’t know exactly where she was, actually.

But it was a circular room, and in the middle was a circular table with five chairs around it, each one upholstered with the main color of one of the houses of Hogwarts.

“Home…” She heard herself murmur, but it wasn’t her voice again.

_This is where it all began…_

“Why did you bring me here?”

_To show you the truth, my child._

Before Hermione could say anything further, the Strain burst from her and formed over the center of that table, but there was still a tendril that was wrapped around her wrist, a tendril that was slowly pulling her forward, pulling her closer, and once she’d come to stand beside the chair of Isadora Avila… Only then did it show her the truth.

_There were flashes of faces, snippets of conversations as the five of them debated what Hogwarts was to be, the image shaking from side to side as it transitioned from one memory to the next._

_“I will **not** stand by and idly watch the four of you destroy yourselves!”_

_“Isadora, please-”_

_“Enough, Salazaar!”_

_Another shake, and Hermione watched as Isadora cast the first spell that would turn into the Ophiuchus Strain, watched the first couple of numbers meld and part and meld again._

_Another shake._

_She was fighting with someone. A man. Not Salazaar or Godric. A tall man, with broad shoulders and shoulder length hair…_

_“I **will** have you Isadora!”_

_“I’ll kill myself first, you wretched pig!”_

_Another shake, and Hermione watched with a dawning horror as Avila took a knife… As she bled…_

_Bled as blue as the Strain… as she **became** the Strain…_

_Hermione watched as she traveled through the centuries, appearing and disappearing, watching and waiting for the right time to emerge again._

_She watched as a young Severus Snape stepped foot in the Great Hall for the first time, felt a tingle in her fingertips as Avila recognized a kindred soul._

_But it was too soon. Not yet. We have to wait..._

_A few more years, Hermione watched herself step into the Great Hall, another tingle - a bigger one this time - as the hat descended over her head and she **knew** that the time was coming._

_And then, Sirius’ death. The moment that had triggered Harry’s grief._

_The moment that had triggered Voldemort’s true return and had awoken the slumbering house again._

_She watched as the House shaped itself over the course of the next year, prepared itself for those that would join it._

_And she watched as the Strain settled itself into her heart, and Hermione knew._

“You’re Isadora Avila…” She whispered, not having the ability to speak any louder as she was brought back to the present and took in the room around her again.

_I am._

“But h-how…?”

_There is much still to show you, but now is not the time. I needed you to understand **this** much for today. The rest will come after._

“Who was that man?”

But the Strain was silent, and somehow Hermione knew that, whoever he was, he was her phantom attacker as well.

She was shaken from the moment, however, but another violent quake, realizing that the castle was still under siege and she swore before turning around and looking at the wall from whence she’d come.

“I need to go.”

_I know. You can leave the same way you entered, my child._

Hermione gave a nod and placed her hand on the stone, feeling the blackness descend once more before she was once again standing in the sconce-lit dungeon corridor.

“Granger!”

She jumped at the voice, but turned around to see Draco running towards her.

“Thank _fuck!_ I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I’m sorry, I was-”

“No time for that!” He reached out to take her by the wrist, hauling her along after him as he took off back in the direction they’d both originally come from.

But he made a sudden detour when they were about halfway along, steering them both into a small alcove that Hermione had noticed during her initial run down.

An alcove, as it turned out, that was decidedly more.

Draco pressed his wand against a couple of bricks in a pattern Hermione couldn’t detect, but another moment and the bricks pulled away to show off a spiral staircase, one Draco was already pushing her up before he turned back towards the hallway.

“Follow that all the way up, and it’ll let you out by the Great Hall. Find Snape. He’s been looking for you. I’m being looked for myself by some of my old housemates, and we both know why I can’t be seen with you right now, Granger.”

Hermione nodded her understanding, but she reached out to rest her palm against Draco’s cheek suddenly, stilling him from pulling away further.

“Take care of Ginny for me, yeah?”

Before he could respond, she shoved him away and back out into the corridor, racing up the stairs as quickly as her rapidly-tiring legs would take her.

Draco had said Snape was looking for her, so Snape she had to find.

As promised, the stairs let out behind a tapestry not far from the Great Hall, though Hermione did her best to remain quiet as she slipped out from behind it and crept down the hallway towards where the rest of the school was likely being held.

She could hear some crying - likely some of the younger students who were rightfully terrified of what was happening - but it was interspersed by the constant thump of spells that were hitting the castle’s stonework.

“Granger, there you are-!” She heard someone murmur behind her, and she turned to see Snape stalking towards her.

“I’m sorry, sir-” She started to explain, but she was cut off when Snape suddenly reached out and clapped a hand over her mouth, wrapping an arm around her waist as he spun them both into yet another alcove.

_What the ever-loving **fuck?!**_

But the Strain wasn’t protesting, and somehow Hermione knew that meant Snape meant her no danger, no matter how gruff he suddenly seemed.

“Stay quiet and listen. I need to share something with you, but there isn’t enough time to explain it verbally. Do you consent to me sharing with you the way you shared with me?”

Hermione’s eyes were wide at the notion, but she gave a small nod before murmuring yes, realizing that Snape would require that verbal agreement in this instance.

What happened next was quick and hurt just a little bit, but in hindsight Hermione realized that pain couldn’t entirely be avoided.

_Snape was answering the Summons, was standing in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest just past the edge of Hogwarts’ wards, his head down as he knelt before Voldemort._

_“We reclaim what is rightfully ours today, my children,” Voldemort was saying as he walked amongst all those bowed before him. “And we will take that which has been denied us for so long.”_

_There was a whispered murmuring around him, a low chorus of ‘aye’ and ‘yes, master’ that sent chills down Hermione’s spine._

_“You all have been made aware of the mudblood filth that carries what we need, of the equation she studies that will tell us how we will win this fight. And I know that I have asked much of you, my loyal children, when it comes to that which we have already fought, that which we must yet still fight, but I must ask one more thing of you concerning this girl._

_“Bring her to me. Unharmed. Or, at least, alive and capable of still telling me about the equation. I know it will be a struggle - your desire to rid the world of blood as filthy as hers is admirable - but I must ask this of you all. Do not fail me, my children, and you shall be rewarded._

_“Bring her to me, so that I may once and for all defeat Dumbledore and Harry Potter and all those who would dare and stand before me in protest of the glory of my vision.”_

_“For the glory of you, my lord!” A female voice called out, and even before Voldemort praised her loyalty, Hermione knew it was Bellatrix Lestrange._

_“Find her, and bring her to me. However you must do it. She will be among those fighting us today, I have no doubt.”_

The vision ended there when Snape pulled back, and Hermione winced at the faint sickly feeling he left behind.

“You cannot leave the castle today, Hermione-” He was telling her, but she was shaking her head, not really in refusal, but in reluctance.

Because she knew she was going to at some point anyway. The recurring vision had told her that much, hadn’t it?

“-he won’t claim me.”

“He’s going to try.”

“I already know he’ll fail.” She looked up at him again, seeing the worry there, seeing the subtle tilt of his head and found herself wondering why she’d never noticed that he and Viktor both did that before.

“The Strain-”

“It still hasn’t really shown me anything past today, but i-it promised that it _would_. Would it do that if he were to take me today?”

There was doubt in his eyes, and maybe Hermione had an inkling of that doubt swimming in her system as well, but somehow she knew that she wasn’t wrong. Not about this.

Finally, he gave a single nod of his head before reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder.

“Be smart. Stay safe.”

“You, too.”

He didn’t smile at that, but there was a sudden hint of softness in his gaze, and Hermione knew he was smiling at her all the same.

But it was gone in an instant and he turned away from her again, quickly disappearing down the hallway as another rumble shook the stones beneath her feet.

Hermione took off in the opposite direction, running again towards something she didn’t understand, but she knew she had to trust what her gut was telling her.

She nearly collided with Ginny in the process who was guiding a confused looking Neville and Luna behind her.

“Bloody hell, Hermione-” Ginny exclaimed as she threw her arms around her again. “-stop disappearing on me like that!”

“Sorry! Lots going on at the moment.” She looked around at the people around her, realizing that it wasn’t just Neville and Luna.

It was the entirety of Dumbledore’s Army.

“...right then. I take it you all have a plan?”

“We protect Hogwarts,” Neville murmured, and Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard that much sureness in his soft voice before.

“The professors have been attempting to reinforce the wards they got back up-” Luna piped up, the usual dreaminess in her eyes having faded away into something far more grounded, and Hermione didn’t know what to make of it. “-but they’ve only been able to protect the immediate castle. None of the grounds. You-Know-Who’s forces are drawing steadily closer as a result.”

“So… What’s the plan then?” She asked again, looking around at those present.

“I’m going to blow up the main walkway,” Seamus supplied, and had taken Dean by the hand to run off and do that very thing before anyone could stop them.

Well, that was _one_ way of keeping the forces of darkness out for a bit.

“That seems practical,” Luna commented with a faint smile, returning Hermione’s attention to her.

“Anyone else got any _thing_ else?”

“There are loads of us who want to join in on reinforcing the wards-” Neville replied. “-but we aren’t sure how to go about it.”

“I’m not sure you can,” Hermione countered with a shake of her head. “I think I remember hearing something about the castle only accepting ward reinforcements from the staff itself?”

“Yeah, but, right now, aren’t we all custodians of Hogwarts?” Neville countered, and honestly, Hermione wondered how Neville hadn’t been called up for Avila himself with a Ravenclaw sort of answer like that.

“You’re bloody _brilliant_ , Neville,” She cooed, reaching forward to pull him into a tight hug before pulling back again.

“Right. Each of you find a professor then. See if you can pair up with them on reinforcements.”

“What about you?” Ginny asked, not even attempting to move out of her spot, and it was clear she wasn’t going to until she had a proper answer from Hermione.

Hermione was half-tempted to say she was going to go check on Viktor, but that would surely bring about all sorts of other questions that she was in no position to answer right at that moment - plus it would be a lie, and Ginny probably knew her well enough to recognize it - so instead she shrugged and gave the closest thing to the truth that she could muster in that moment.

“I need to find Vector.”

“I think I last saw Professor Vector out by the greenhouses,” Luna offered. “It looked like she was trying to bend the wards so they would extend out further, but judging by their colors, I don’t think it was working the way she wanted it to.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of that either - but maybe it wasn’t such a far stretch for her to believe that Luna could _see_ the wards since she could probably see auras as well - and decided not to question it, instead giving a nod of thanks and turning to head out in that direction.

She made it all of about thirty feet before another violent rumble sent the ground shaking beneath her feet hard enough to make her stumble, and she fell to her knees with a curse, feeling the skin of her palms rip just as surely as she felt her knees crack against the hard stone as well.

Well, _that_ was going to leave a mark.

Before she could question what was happening though, the window just ahead of her suddenly shattered as a spell hit it, and she quickly ducked her head down between her arms to avoid the flying shards as they skittered down around her.

“The wards have fallen again-!” She heard someone off in the distance yell, and she scrambled to her feet to get closer to the now-shattered window, peeking out around the edge of the frame to take in what she could.

Voldemort’s army was approaching from all sides but the front where Seamus and Dean had already clearly laid out their explosives, explosives that now meant those within Hogwarts couldn’t escape either.

But they were marching out onto the grounds, slowly emerging in cloaks of black from the edges of the forest, faces hidden behind horrible masks that - from this distance - Hermione couldn’t make out.

“Come out, my brethren!” Voldemort’s voice suddenly rang out again around them. “Come out and greet me, as your true Master, and I shall grant you safe passage away! Let us not shed magical blood here, on this holiest of grounds…”

It was quiet for a moment before a single red spell shot out from a window somewhere to Hermione’s right - it looked to be around the Gryffindor tower - though the spell fell terribly short of hitting its mark.

Voldemort - and all of his followers - let out a laugh at that, though it died off a moment later, and Hermione quietly wondered just where he was hiding, knowing he wouldn’t show his face here yet, not when the battle was still so early.

“...very well then! What follows - and all of the blood that will be spilled - is now on _your_ hands, Albus Dumbledore.”

And suddenly, from somewhere in the forest, a terrible green light burst from out of the tree tops, hovering in the air for a moment before the familiar form of the Dark Mark took shape-

-and the masses charged forward.

Similarly, the masses from Hogwarts burst forward as well, though they all knew they were far outnumbered, but spells were flying, and Hermione knew - no matter what promises she’d made and to whom she’d made them - that she wasn’t meant to stand by and idly watch.

So, she turned and ran. Ran as fast as her feet could carry her, her wand clenched tight in her hand as she burst out the doors and joined the cacophony, throwing out stinging jinxes and bat bogey hexes and a fair number of Stupefies, putting up defensive walls as best as she could, though she wasn’t always as quick as she wanted.

She’d caught the edge of a stinging jinx at one point, her left arm swelling a bit in irritation, and her right side felt sticky from where she’d caught the other edge of a slicing hex, and she idly wondered if she’d have scars to match the ones Dolohov had given her a couple of years prior.

But she couldn’t put too much thought into it, instead gritting her teeth and muttering an Episky to hold her over before throwing herself back into the fray.

It was hours before anything resembling a hold started to take shape, and it was when she realized that the Dark Mark was starting to fade from the sky that Voldemort’s voice once more called out to them all.

“You have fought… Most valiantly, but I am afraid that it is in vain. I am recalling my troops for one hour, to give you a chance to collect your injured and your dead, to heal your wounds and catch your breath, but then I am coming again.

“Albus Dumbledore, see the blood that you have spilled? See how many you have lost while still I stand strong? Give me what I want, and this shall all be over… You have one hour.”

The voice faded away again, leaving Hermione feeling sicker to her stomach, but somehow… She was left alone as Voldemort’s forces retreated.

Maybe they didn’t see her, or didn’t recognize her, but at any rate, no one approached her.

So, she did as the rest of Hogwarts did, and ventured forth to help the injured to their feet, working as quickly as her magick-drained body would allow, only turning back around to survey the land once the last of the survivors had been helped inside.

And it was with a sick realization that it all came crashing down around her.

This was it. The dream. The _vision_ that she’d been plagued with for months.

It was happening, and she was experiencing it in real time.

The land around her was muddied from hundreds of pairs of feet having been running and fighting over it, from blood being spilled, and she stumbled as she took a step back, the mud clinging to her shoes and the edges of her robes.

The air was thick with spell smoke, leaving a terrible, _acrid_ aftertaste in her mouth, and she knew what she was going to see when she turned back around to face the castle.

But she did it anyway.

And there she was. The woman in the black cloak, her hood pulled up to cover her face, but the edges of her robe were being ruffled by the wind just enough to reveal the red she was wearing underneath.

Hermione took a staggering step towards her before looking over her shoulder once more, this time towards the forest, seeing the hints of movement there along the treeline.

Their hour was almost up.

And the woman was lowering her hood, revealing a keenly familiar set of features.

“Vector!” She called out, breaking out into the fastest sprint she could manage, nearly crashing into the older witch as she slid in the mud when she tried to stop just before her.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone back to the castl-”

“We were looking for you, Hermione!” She shot back, reaching out with steadying hands to help Hermione stabilize herself. “Severus said he gave you implicit directions-”

“I couldn’t follow them!” Hermione countered with a shake of her head, though she knew she didn’t have time to explain why.

But it was because this exact moment needed to happen, didn’t it?

She let out a sob then, a murmured apology before she looked back over her shoulder, seeing the first of the Death Eaters once more emerge from the forest, wand held at the ready.

And she saw the familiar green spell shoot up into the air, watched as the Dark Mark formed in the sky, and heard Voldemort call an end to the reprieve.

“Run,” She whispered, shoving as hard as she could to get Vector going, but they both made it all of a few steps before Hermione felt both a terrible, aching cold and the most furious of burning heats overcome her, knowing she’s been hit with _something_ as she fell forward.

The edges of her vision turned green as she crashed into Vector, her hands grasping onto the edges of that all-too-familiar black cloak, feeling something heavy but utterly weightless dislodge within her before green morphed into horrifying black.

And Hermione Granger, with a final, strangled cry of grief and pain, knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for your continued support and encouragement. I'd love to know what you thought about this chapter as well~
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined :)


	26. Chapter 25: Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is over? Now what...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a special treat for getting 5,000 hits on this story, y'all are getting this chapter a little earlier than I'd initially planned. I genuinely cannot thank y'all enough. You're amazing.

There is a moment, when the soul first leaves the body, wherein the body puts up as much of a fight as it possibly can.

The brain registers this as pain, and puts up defenses to try and stop the pain, but the pain persists.

And then it suddenly stops, and everything is still and quiet and dark. There is a feeling of nothingness because there _is_ nothing.

Hermione existed in that still, quiet, dark place for a long moment before the world crashed back down around her, and her eyes shot up as she gasped for air, flailing about as she reached out for Vector again to try and stop her fall.

She was met with strong arms holding her down, with black eyes meeting hers and trying to soothe her.

But her vision was fuzzy, the colors all wrong, and there was something definitely the matter with her thinking.

“No, m’fine-let me go!”

But she could hear cries around her, people calling out for help, for more bandages, for pain potions and burn creams, and she could hear people crying over fallen loved ones.

She could… She could hear _Ginny_ crying, couldn’t she?

But why was Ginny-?

She tried to get up again, but Snape was still holding her down, encouraging her to rest even as he called out for Pomfrey.

Pomfrey came running at the call, making a tsking sound with her teeth before she waved her wand over Hermione’s head and then down her body, but Hermione didn’t like the way she frowned.

“Hold her still, Severus. I need to redo the spells for her side.”

Hermione let out a scream at the sudden feeling of skin being forcibly knit back together, and that scream was further proof that something was wrong with her hearing because _surely_ she didn’t _really_ sound like **that**.

It was only after it was over that she recognized she was warm again, and she realized that having Snape close to her was likely the reason.

It made sense, even if she didn’t know _why_ it made sense just yet.

But then Pomfrey was tipping a pain potion down Hermione’s throat, and she sputtered but swallowed anyway, feeling herself start to get drowsy almost instantly, but she fought against it, reaching back out to Snape when he started to pull away.

It was then that she realized there wasn’t something the matter with her hearing in the slightest.

“Sleep, Septima. You need the rest.”

“...w-what did you just call me?”

“Septima,” Severus repeated, an eyebrow arching though it was clear by the look in his gaze that it wasn’t out of amusement. “You _do_ know your name, do you not?”

He was calling Pomfrey back over then, but Hermione was shaking her head violently, trying to sit up, trying to fight against the growing drowsiness that the pain potion was inducing in her.

“Course I do, but… but s’not… Not Septima?”

Snape’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back down, holding her there despite her struggles, and Hermione honestly couldn’t say if she was just that weak or if Snape was far stronger than he looked. Maybe it was both...

But she was looking around her, ignoring Pomfrey when she came over, trying to get a sight of someone who could confirm who she was, and she was about to call out to Viktor when she saw him…

...but then she realized what he was doing, and all of the fight left her in an instant.

Because there was Ginny as well. And Ginny _was_ crying, just as Viktor seemed to be.

Over… Over _her_ body. Over Hermione Granger’s body.

But that… That meant-

“Septima?”

She looked back up into Snape’s eyes at that, feeling the harsh sting of tears start to settle in.

“I-I’m not…”

But Severus was frowning at her, looking into her eyes with a keen note of curiosity.

“...has your right eye always had that touch of brown to it?”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Dumbledore, a man who looked every one of his years in that moment, and a deafening silence fell over the ward saved for the handful of scattered - if slightly muffled - cries of those patients who were in too much pain to hold back.

Because here was the man who had failed them.

And it was a man who _knew_ he had failed them.

He didn’t make any speeches, but instead walked amongst the crowd, checking in on patients and reading reports, hearing what needed to be said before making his way to the next patient.

He came to stop at the foot of Hermione’s bed, giving her a long look before stepping closer to rest a hand over hers and Hermione barely withheld herself from pulling her hand away in disgust.

“I’m sorry, Septima. I should never have sent you back out there to look for Miss Granger-”

_Dumbledore had sent her? That seemed odd…_

“-but I did, and I can’t take it back now. I hope, one day…. You’ll forgive me my transgressions.”

“I’m not a priest, Headmaster,” She croaked, the words feeling weird in her mouth, the way she held her jaw all wrong, but they were honest all the same. “I can’t absolve you of your sins.”

He gave a nod at that, seemingly understanding, before he took a step back and moved on to the next patient on his list.

Snape was studying her again, and Hermione didn’t hesitate to look right back.

“...I’m _sure_ your eye wasn’t that color before…”

“I’m not-”

But once again, she was cut off from finishing her statement, this time by a vicious yawn, the pain potion starting to take more of an effect on her than she liked, but no matter how much she fought, it fought harder.

And Snape told her to rest, so she did. She’d have the time and a chance to speak with him again later, she was sure.

When she next awoke, it was dark, moonlight filtering in through the windows and tinting everything in a weird silvery light.

It was quiet, too, and Hermione was careful as she got to her feet not to make a sound, but the way she walked was different.

She was possessing another woman’s body, though. Of course it was going to be weird. The swing of her hips was a touch wider, the length of her stride longer…

She came to a stop though next to her body, peering down upon herself and feeling overcome with grief…

“Her body lives-” Came a low voice from behind her, and she jumped as she spun around, reaching up a hand to rest it against her rapidly-beating heart before she let out a breath of relief at the person who’d interrupted her.

“...Professor Snape. You startled me…”

His eyebrow arched at what she said, and it was only after the fact that Hermione realized she’d called him ‘Professor Snape’ and not by his given name as he was likely used to hearing.

“Sorry, S-Severus. It’s um… It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, I’m sure it has.”

He was looking at her curiously, clearly still studying her much in the same way he had been earlier, but soon enough his attention returned to the girl in the bed before them.

“As I mentioned, her body lives. Her heart beats, there is clearly activity in her brain…”

Hermione frowned at that, crossing her arms over her chest, but it felt awkward. Vector was curvier than she herself was, and she didn’t quite know how to make the arms sit right.

Snape was frowning at her again, but continued on anyway. “...but the activity in her brain is likely just automatic. Controlling her breathing, her pulse… She lives but there is no _life_ in her body.”

_No, because I’m standing right here beside you._

“What happened?” Hermione quietly asked.

“As best as we can tell, she was hit with a spell. It wasn’t the Killing Curse, but something terribly close. No one was close enough to see for certain what transpired, but we know she was hit, and she fell forward and both of you fell to the ground.”

_I **literally** fell into her. What spell hit me, then?_

“You’re oddly quiet, Septima…”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know you were fond of the girl-”

Hermione scoffed at that before turning back towards Snape, noting how he didn’t tower over her as much in this body as he had when she was in her own.

“-there’s something you’re not telling me, Septima.”

She blinked, feeling tears start to well in her eyes, and it was then that Snape stepped closer again, once more peering into her eyes as he lifted his wand towards her face and murmured a ‘lumos’ to light up her face.

“The brown spot in your right eye has grown since this morning…”

“I-I’m not Septima.”

“Can I-?”

“Yes.”

_“Legilimens…”_

Everything swam to the surface, all of her memories of the past twenty four hours, and Hermione could feel Snape search through them, confirming for himself the truth of her claim.

When he pulled away again, Hermione noted that his hand had come up to rest against her cheek to hold her head steady, but the touch wasn’t an unwelcome one.

“...Hermione?”

She nodded, her knees threatening to give out suddenly as the weight of the admission overwhelmed her, but Snape’s hands were there on her elbows, holding her up as her hands clenched into fists in the fabric over his chest.

“I’ve got you,” He crooned, his hands supporting her as her legs wobbled, holding her up still as her legs finally gave up and she fell into his arms and let the tears fall.

His arms had wrapped around her at some point, holding her close as she sobbed, and while Hermione didn’t really understand what exactly that meant, she wasn’t going to shy away from it, not yet.

He held her until her crying had subsided into mild sniffles and even when she moved to pull back he stayed close, one hand resting on her waist and the other at her shoulder while she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her hospital gown.

“...how did this happen?”

She gave a shrug, not really sure how to answer, shaking her head as she made an attempt anyway.

“I-I was hit with some sort of spell. Not sure which one, but there was a flash of green-”

He nodded as he quietly interrupted her. “We saw that much from the ramparts. We know it wasn’t the killing curse, at least, since your body is still alive.”

Hermione sniffed but nodded all the same. “There was this… This _weight_... Right here-” She pressed a hand against her sternum, absently rubbing the spot as she went on. “-a-and it felt like it snapped away and left me.”

There was a growing understanding there deep in Snape’s eyes, but he didn’t voice that understanding aloud. Not yet.

“...is Vector in there with you?”

“If she is, she hasn’t told me yet.”

For that matter, neither had the Strain, and she tried searching herself for it, but with no immediate signs of luck.

_What could that possibly mean, then? It promised I was going to learn more…_

“...what happened after that?” She quietly asked, looking back up at him and taking in the concern deep in the glittering blackness of his eyes.

“We watched you both fall, and those of us that could ran out to claim you and bring you back inside. Somehow - and I’m still rather unsure of the logistics - Lovegood and Longbottom managed to aid in bringing the wards back up.”

“So, _He_ didn’t-?”

“He did not. However, they have set up camp on the Quidditch pitch, as the wards only cover the castle proper.”

Something dawned on Hermione then, and she straightened up again as her arms reached out to take a hold of Severus’ upper arms.

“...if they only cover the castle proper… that means they don’t cover Avila, correct?”

It was clear that Severus was starting to think along the same lines as he was giving a minute nod of his head in agreement.

“And if the wards don’t cover Avila-”

“-then we can get into Avila and Apparate in and out of there to bring in our own reinforcements without the Dark Lord ever being made aware of it.”

Hermione heaved a sigh, though, as another thought occurred to her.

“...I suppose that means the Headmaster is getting his war room after all.”

There was a sudden sound of shuffling, though, as of someone walking about, and the duo sprang apart - Severus immediately raising his wand to the ready again - only to take in the sight of a sleepy third year Hufflepuff who was walking about looking lost and confused.

“Drithers… You should be in bed,” Snape crooned, moving forward to carefully usher the student back, but Hermione could overhear the girl talking about needing a glass of water.

But Snape clearly had a handle on the situation, and instead she returned to study the prone figure of her own body stretched out on the gurney, slowly reaching out a hand to take hers and hold it tight.

It shocked her just how cold the digits were, though a quick check at the wrist confirmed that her heart still beat, and Hermione wondered if that’s what everyone else felt whenever they’d touched her over the last few months.

There was suddenly a familiar tingling in her fingertips though, and she looked down to note a few small, blue tendrils creep out from the edge of her body’s fingertips to dance along her new ones.

“...hello, you…” She cooed, and another moment later she felt the Strain slowly start to seep into her body - _Vector’s_ body - felt it start to swim in her bloodstream again and it almost felt like she was home once more.

_I liked our old home better._

_**So did I, but this will do until I can figure out how to get us back.** _

_ Get **all** of us back, at that. _

_**Vector?! You’re alive!** _

_ Not sure if that’s the word, but I’m here. It hurts though… _

_It will for a while. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry, too, but… You’re a part of me now, Septima Vector._

_ How do you mean? _

_I couldn’t protect you both. I tried, but the spell was too strong. I could save both bodies, but not both souls and I-_

_ What. Do. You. Mean??? _

_I had to incorporate you into me, Septima. You will always live on this way, just as I do, but you will never be able to return to your body and live as you once knew._

There was a deafening silence that followed, one Hermione couldn’t even begin to question, and she felt her heart shatter even before she felt the wail that Vector eventually let out, and she had to reach forward and take hold of the bed in front of her to keep herself from falling as she was overwhelmed with the magnitude of everything they’d just been told.

“...it’s too much…”

“...Professor Vector?”

She spun around at the voice, feeling her heart break even further as she took in the sight of Ginny Weasley standing there, looking a proper mess, but she held out a hand towards the girl to draw her in close.

Ginny had never taken Arithmancy, but she’d also never been one to refuse a hug.

“We’ll get it all sorted. I promise,” She murmured after a long moment, still holding the redhead close.

“Sounds like something ‘Mione would say,” Ginny sniffed, and Hermione resisted the urge to tell her friend the truth.

How would she even begin to explain it? There was so much more going on here than she had the words for, and would Ginny even believe her?

“Her heart is still beating, her brain is still working… Take comfort in that, Ginny. It means she’s still here with us, even if not in the way we’re used to.”

Ginny gave a nod before slowly pulling back, sniffing slightly as she rubbed at her eyes.

“...tell that to Viktor.”

Hermione felt her spine stiffen at that, and she was ashamed to admit that - in the chaos - she’d completely forgotten that Viktor was even there.

“I’ll have a talk with him later. It might be easier for me to explain, perhaps?” She waited for Ginny to give another nod before continuing.

“Try and get some rest. It’s been a long day for all of us, and Merlin only knows what’s in store for us come tomorrow.”

Ginny gave a murmured agreement before turning on her heel and moving away, and Hermione watched as the redhead disappeared out into the corridor and then turned as if to head towards the Great Hall.

It seemed likely that the students were being housed there again for their own protection.

“Are you alright?” She heard a soft, rumbling voice come out of the shadows, but she didn’t jump, instead turning tired eyes over to watch as Snape emerged from the darkness.

“No… But can you blame me?”

He shook his head. “You need rest as well.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I’m an expert at not sleeping,” He gently teased, though there was a look in his eyes to suggest he was probably going to find somewhere to crash himself rather soon.

“I can’t stay here. Not tonight. There’s… Too much.”

Snape gave a nod of understanding. “...If your theory holds true, we could probably sneak back into Avila.”

Hermione gave a nod and didn’t hesitate to reach out when Snape offered her his arm, weaving her own through it as he led her away and out of the quiet hospital ward and towards the suit of armor still standing guard out front of Dumbledore’s office.

“Here goes nothing,” Hermione whispered, reaching out with her free hand to rest over the crest in its chest, closing her eyes as she waited to see what would happen.

With a quiet squeak, the armor moved aside, revealing a staircase that descended down into the darkness, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief that it had _worked_.

Another moment, and they were both making their way down into that blackness and back towards Avila.

Neither one of them noticing a pair of glittering blue eyes watching them from the shadows behind them or the faint, predatory smile that touched lips hidden behind a flowing white beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that answered some questions?
> 
> Come yell at me if you want. You can do that a few different places. [Tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) is one of those places.


	27. Chapter 26: Plotting Plots and Planning Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus start to plan how they either are or _aren't_ going to tell people about her situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this, but I couldn't wait any longer, and I don't think any of y'all will complain :P

Hermione slept fitfully that night, unable to find a comfortable position, and it certainly didn’t help that Crookshankes wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

Understandable, really, but it still hurt that her familiar had sort of turned his back on her, or - at the very least - was too confused to give her a chance just yet.

Eventually she managed to drift off, but awoke again after only a small handful of hours, finally deciding to give up the ghost and take a shower.

She was startled, though, by her appearance in the mirror over the bathroom sink, and it took her a long moment before she was able to approach enough to _really_ give herself a thorough look.

Septima Vector was an attractive woman, Hermione admitted to herself, feeling a little touch of humor from somewhere within her - likely Vector herself - but it was still unsettling to see the Arithmancy professor’s face stare back at her from the mirror.

It was made stranger, still, when Hermione realized that her right eye had completely morphed from Vector’s usually steely-silver into Hermione’s own coffee-brown. It was the only outward sign that something really _had_ happened between them.

_I think it’s because we melded our magicks before._ Vector piped up as Hermione studied the eyes a bit more carefully.

_**How do you mean?** _

_ Well, think about it. We melded magicks, so we were already somewhat akin to one another. Whatever spell we were struck with… I think it was supposed to kill us, but instead, our magicks recognized one another and decided to protect each other instead. _

_**And when you include Isadora’s attempts to protect us as well-** _

There was a sudden familiar tingling sensation in her fingertips as the Strain confirmed their theory.

_ Exactly. We ended up like this instead. _

There was a hefty amount of sorrow that suddenly descended with their realization, and Hermione looked up to notice that she was crying.

Except… She wasn’t sure if she herself was crying, or if Vector was.

Turning away from the mirror - thinking that perhaps it would do Vector good to cry in private - she turned towards the shower and made to climb inside, though she paused as she reached to turn on the hot water.

“...I have no idea how to wash your hair.”

_I’ll walk you through it._ Vector giggled, a faint sniffle still present in her voice. _Let me see what you’ve already got on hand?_

It took a little while - thank Merlin for a never-ending supply of hot water - but eventually Hermione figured out how to properly scrub and then condition the long, dark locks of hair on her head - how _strange_ it was to be able to just… Run her fingers through it! - and before too terribly long, she was climbing back out of the shower to comb and braid her hair before wrapping a towel around herself and heading off to find something to wear.

Which… Proved far trickier than she would’ve liked. She’d noted before that Vector was taller and curvier than Hermione herself was, so there wasn’t really anything in her wardrobe that would fit, and she didn’t really feel like putting back on the clothes she’d changed out of the night before.

Transfigurating something new it was, then.

Once again, it took a bit of finangeling, but she managed to make it work, and eventually she was climbing the stairs from her room up towards the Avila common room - thankful that no one noticed where she’d come from, considering Vector really had no business being in Hermione’s own private rooms - where she wasn’t all that surprised to see Snape sitting at the oval table with a cup of what smelled to be coffee.

What _was_ a surprise, however, was the sight of Ginny and Draco standing in the kitchen.

Holding onto one another. With Ginny’s head tucked up under Draco’s chin while his fingers idly ran through her hair.

Ginny looked like she’d been crying… Draco looked oddly stoic, and Hermione wondered how much of that was a front.

_Had a feeling that was coming._ Vector spoke up.

_**Draco and Ginny?** _

_ Aye. They’ve been making eyes at each other for a few months now. There’s something definitely blooming there. _

Hermione turned her eyes away to give them their privacy, but was quietly agreeing with Vector all the same.

It was a good match, and… Maybe a sign of things to come.

But she couldn’t dwell on that just then, not when Snape was sitting there at the table looking over the Marauder’s Map like it was his sole purpose in life.

“...do you mind if I join you?” She quietly asked, giving him a small and tired grin when he lifted his head up to look at her.

But he gave a nod, and Hermione moved to take a seat across from him, carefully folding herself into the chair as best as she could, but it felt _wrong_ to do so, and it took her a bit longer than she would’ve liked to get comfortable.

It was made worse when she went to make herself a cup of coffee, making it the way she herself had always enjoyed it, and then couldn’t drink more than a sip of it because it was suddenly _far_ too sweet and creamy.

_ I always took it black with a single sugar, love. Sorry. _

She cleared away the contents and started again, thankful that Severus didn’t make a comment and glad that there was no one else around to pay attention and notice her blunder.

“Did you sleep, Septima?”

Hermione gave a faint shrug of her shoulders at that, taking another sip of her coffee before replying.

“Not really,” She murmured before tapping at her temple with her free hand. “Too much going on up here.”

Snape nodded in understanding at that before making a gesture to invite her closer so she could see what he was looking at, and Hermione winced as she saw the myriad of little name flags that were now positioned around the castle once she’d come around to his side of the table to peek over his shoulder at the map.

“He has us properly surrounded, doesn’t he?”

“He does, though the castle wards still hold.”

“Have there been any further attempts to get inside?”

“Not just yet,” Severus calmly explained, leaning back in his chair a bit. “Though I know he has plans to again soon. He’s merely waiting for further reinforcements.”

“Have you been summoned again, then?”

He gave another nod, his voice dropping further as he elaborated. “Twice, yes. Both times it was so that I could deliver another message to the Headmaster who… Is not taking the events of yesterday well.”

“He expected to win.”

“Yes, he did. And while it is true that we managed to hold Hogwarts, we lost the grounds _and_ lives. It weighs on him.”

“It should.”

“You sound like Hermione,” A sniffly voice from behind them spoke up, and Hermione lifted her gaze to see that Ginny and Draco had moved out of the kitchens to join them at the table.

“There were other preventative measures the Headmaster could’ve taken to protect us against what happened yesterday.”

“You’re saying we should’ve surrendered?!” Ginny shot back, but Hermione was quick to cut that off before the redhead could get properly worked up.

“Of course not! I’m merely stating that he should’ve _listened_ more!”

She sighed before pressing on. “Dumbledore knew that Hogwarts was You Know Who’s ultimate goal. He’s known that all along, and he knew that the fight was coming. Yes, I will concede the point that it came earlier than expected, but he still could’ve made other preparations before hand.”

“Like reinforcing the wards earlier?” Draco offered.

“Exactly. Or even slowly bringing in members of the Order. Having more than just a handful of professors and literal school children could’ve easily turned the tide yesterday, but the Headmaster has gotten so into his own head at this point, that I’m afraid he’s losing sight of the game itself.”

“We were certainly outnumbered yesterday,” Severus agreed, eyes still looking over the map. “And we will certainly be outnumbered if the Dark Lord decides to launch another attack soon.”

“Then how do we even the playing field?” Ginny asked, having accepted Hermione/Septima’s explanation and moved to take a seat next to her.

No one at all was surprised when Draco took the seat on the other side of Ginny.

“The wards are protecting the castle proper-” Severus began to explain, sharing a look with Hermione that told her he’d been giving serious thought to their conversation from the previous evening. “-but they don’t extend to the grounds. Or here, for that matter.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Ginny replied.

“It means the Anti-Apparation jinxes don’t extend this far out either, Miss Weasley,” Snape replied. “And we can bring people in here and then sneak them back up to the castle via the suit of armor in my office.”

“You mean like the rest of the Order?” Draco asked, looking decidedly invested in this particular conversation.

“Exactly so, yes.” Snape nodded as he confirmed the supposition. “Unfortunately, that _does_ mean that the Headmaster is likely to turn Avila into his war room.”

“But doesn’t he still have to have one of us-” Ginny was gesturing between them. “-with him? Same as with those we Apparate in. They’d have to be with one of us at all times, meaning there’d have to be an Avilian present at every council he wanted to hold here.”

Ginny wasn’t wrong, and both Snape and Hermione were nodding in agreement with her assessment.

“That’s very true, yes.” Snape nodded again. “I suppose there’s comfort in knowing that we’ll be able to have our voices heard on certain matters.”

“...what about the Strain?” Draco quietly asked, sparing a glance over towards Hermione before returning his gaze to Snape.

“Septima was its original host,” Snape clarified, gesturing towards the woman in question, and Hermione gave Draco a small smile and nod in confirmation.

“It came back to me last night.” Technically not a lie, as it _had_ come back to her current body. “I’m going to do my best to interpret it while I can.”

“Do you think you understand it enough?” Ginny asked.

“Hermione had filled me in on some of the major details, so it hopefully won’t be too difficult to parse what’s new information and what’s older.”

That one was a bit more of a lie, but she had to be careful, didn’t she?

Thankfully, both Ginny and Draco accepted the answers at face value and neither one of them pushed any further on the subject. Why should they, if she said she was handling it?

“Have you spoken with the Headmaster yet about us being outside the wards, Severus?” Draco asked, once more staring somewhat intently over at the man in question.

“Not yet.” Snape shook his head. “I had intended to do so later this morning. I’ll need to go back to the castle at some point to do a ward assessment walk with him and the other professors, and will speak with him on the matter then.”

“He’s going to be insufferable about it, too, isn’t he?” Hermione quipped, barely restraining the urge to roll her eyes, though she _did_ steadfastly ignore the way Ginny and Draco turned their heads to stare at her.

Was that something Vector would’ve said?

_ Yes, but I might’ve been a touch more subtle about it? _

Hermione wanted to shrug, but thought better of it, realizing it might’ve looked odd to outsiders.

Instead, she glanced over at Severus, realizing that he, too, was giving her an odd look, but she didn’t really know what to make of it, so she ignored it.

“I’ll speak with the Headmaster-” Severus finally drawled. “-let him know of the change in arrangements. Vector, I would appreciate it if you came with me. You two-” He glanced over at Draco and Ginny, glancing back and forth between them as he continued. “-should try to get some more rest. I can’t promise you what’s in store for us, but I believe we all know it won’t be easy.”

Everyone gave a nod of agreement, and Ginny and Draco both rose to their feet, not even bothering to hide the fact that they were both heading towards Draco and Hermione’s smaller common room.

“...I think they’re good for each other,” Hermione quietly murmured once they’d disappeared from sight, turning back to face Severus who was looking a touch amused.

“Two families who’ve long been at war with each other… Brought together by the youngest generation… It’s a bit Romeo and Juliet, I suppose.”

“At least they’ve spent more than three days together,” Hermione countered, and she grinned when she heard Severus’ low rumble of a laugh at that.

It faltered after a moment though, and Snape moved to push himself to his feet, Hermione doing the same shortly thereafter.

“We should start making our way back to the castle,” He murmured.

“Should we um… Should we come up with a _plan_ first?”

“If by ‘plan’ you mean discuss how we’re going to address…” He made a gesture with his hand towards her, clearly indicating her current predicament, and she nodded in confirmation.

“...how do you _want_ to address it, then?”

“I don’t,” She carefully replied, folding her arms across her chest again, finding that it was starting to come a little bit easier than it had been. “I’d rather we keep it between the two of us for now until such a time where it becomes necessary to bring it up.”

“You don’t think that time has already come?”

“No, I don’t. I think we’re at an advantage right now, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“...an advantage in what way?”

“You Know Who won’t be coming to look for me if he thinks I’m in a coma, will he? Moreover, you and I - along with Ginny and Draco - are right now the only ones that know the Strain is still _with me_ even if the other two don’t know the extent of it. I know we’ll have to tell Dumbledore about it, but… we can be careful about it.”

“Vector didn’t know as much about the Strain as you’ve come to understand,” Snape quietly agreed. “Are you perhaps suggesting that we… Study the new numbers, and perhaps censor what we tell the Headmaster? Just in case your previous theories about him hold true?”

“I believe that’s _exactly_ what I’m suggesting,” Hermione agreed, feeling her features morph into a bit of a smirk that she was surprised to find didn’t feel forced. Maybe it was something Vector did more frequently than she herself did.

_ You bet your bottom I did. _

“I don’t _dislike_ what you’re suggesting…” Snape finally replied after a moment, mirroring Hermione’s position by crossing his arms over his own chest. “...though I believe it’s a path we need to tread carefully.”

“You’re the expert here, sir.”

“That’s another thing-” Snape was quick to interject. “-you’ll need to address me a bit less formally going forward.”

“...oh. Right.”

“If it’s easier to address me as ‘Snape’, you can do so without arousing too much suspicion. Septima typically would only address me by my first name if we were in private.”

Snape took a small step closer then, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his words clearly just meant for her alone to hear. “I understand that this is… A difficult situation for you. But you will persevere. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m glad one of us is.”

Snape frowned at that before stepping closer still, reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder, and Hermione was struck with the realization that he seemed almost comfortable with the physicality of it.

_...yeah, it’s weird for me, too. He’s not usually like this._ __

_**I’m not sure if that was supposed to make me feel better or not, Tima.** _

_For such a brilliant woman, Hermione Granger, you can be the most daft child I’ve ever encountered._

_...you know something? _

_I know **all** , remember?_

Hermione made a mental note to ask more questions later, but didn’t want to phase out of sync with the conversation for too long, noting that she’d already been a bit out of it and had possibly missed something that he’d said.

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“...are you alright, Hermione?”

“I’ve got two other voices in my head right now, si… Severus. It’s a bit confusing.”

“Two others? So, Septima…?”

“She’s with the Strain, yes.”

She could’ve probably clarified that further, but it seemed odd to do so just then, and perhaps still too raw.

“Good. Hopefully between the two of you, translating the Strain will go faster, still.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Snape squeezed her shoulder before letting his hand fall away and return to its previous position of being crossed in front of his chest.

“We’ll figure out how to get through this, Hermione. Never fear. We’re Avilians, after all. It’s our lot in life now to figure out the impossible.”

Hermione gave him a small smile and a nod at that, though her gaze fell away a bit as her thoughts once more turned inward.

It was all well and good to say that they would make it through, that they would figure it out, but…

...where did they even start?

And then, something occurred to Hermione, the thought hitting her hard enough that she actually gasped, taking a small step forward and reaching out to clasp at Severus’ upper arm as she once more returned her gaze to his.

“The spell that hit me - that did _this_ -” She waved a hand sort of over herself. “-we know it wasn’t the killing curse, since my body still lives.”

“...obviously…”

“But what if it was something in the same vein?”

“We’ve already talked abo-”

“I know we’ve all sort of agreed that it wasn’t meant to kill me, but your own memories stated that He didn’t want me dead, correct? Incapacitated was fine, but he needed me to be cognizant enough to help him with the Strain. Being in a coma is _not_ cognizant, is it?”

“...so either the Death Eater that fired upon you was going against the Dark Lord’s wishes, or-”

“Or the spell they used was only supposed to _look_ like the Killing Curse.”

“Which would suggest that the Death Eater was perhaps trying to protect you? That by making it look like you’d been hit with an Advada - and thereby taking you off the playing field - the Dark Lord would be unable to get to you and use you to his advantage.”

“It was another way to level the playing field, perhaps,” Hermione quietly agreed. “As far as _either_ side knows, the Strain is still inside Hermione Granger. What reason would it have for being inside Septima Vector?”

“...perhaps we shouldn’t mention to the Headmaster yet that you’ve taken it on again, hmmm?”

Hermione couldn’t even _begin_ to hide the grin that spread across her features at that anymore than she could ignore the howls of laughter that both Vector and the Strain itself let loose inside of her.

Dumbledore and Voldemort _both_ could hang, for all she cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, your Slytherin side is showing a bit.
> 
> Come yell at me! You can do so here in a review, or over on [tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you want :)


	28. Chapter 27: Wards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus do some ward assessments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when exactly I'll be able to post again - it might be a bit longer than usual, sadly - so I wanted to get this chapter to y'all to hold you over for a bit <3

Severus and Hermione talked for a little while longer before it was decided that they should probably go and join Dumbledore and the others in the castle for the ward assessments he’d previously spoken of.

“We’ll most likely be paired off-” He was quietly explaining as they made their way into his office and he tapped the crest on the suit of armor. “-and I will endeavour to keep you with me just to make things easier. If Dumbledore decides to pair us off with others, however, you should know what to expect.”

“Vector says she can help walk me through it,” Hermione quietly countered, having heard the witch in question speak up before Severus could get properly underway with his explanation.

“...right. Very well, then.” He gave a small nod of his head before gesturing for Hermione to head up the stairs before him, and Hermione took a deep breath before doing so, once more heading into that blackness that would take them back to the castle.

Rather unsurprisingly, Dumbledore was on the other side, though he was joined by McGonagall and Flitwick with an anxious looking Sinistra standing over to a far side with Pomfrey and Slughorn.

_Sinistra was never as strong in Charms as the others. If Dumbledore pairs everyone up, he’d be smart to pair her with Flitwick. I don’t particularly care for Slughorn, but he’s a smart man. If we’re paired up with him, we’ll still be fine._

Hermione was internally nodding, though she tugged her outer robes a bit tighter around herself as a sudden burst of cold air hit the back of her neck.

She could only hope it was a draft, and not a sign of hidden dangers.

The chill left, though, as Severus took a step closer to her, and she once again found herself resisting the urge to curl up into his warmth.

_ Oh! _

_I told you. She’s just being daft!_

_**Quiet, both of you. I’m not being daft about anything.** _

_Really? Have you checked in on Viktor, yet?_

_**...I’m not being daft about anything.** _

She was pulled from her private conversation, however, when Dumbledore suddenly cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention as he carefully clasped his hands in front of him.

“I have made my apologies to each of you, and I can only hope that - going forward - I can prove myself to you in how I conduct myself in regards to maintaining our hold of Hogwarts. Yesterday was a disastrous day for us all, but more so for me because I failed you. I know I did.”

If he was expecting anyone to pipe up and counter his words, he was to be sorely disappointed when, instead, everyone kept their mouths shut in silent agreement.

“Right now, though…” He finally went on, once he realized the situation he was in. “...we need to refortify the wards, make sure that we can keep them going strong should Tom decide to launch another attack soon.”

“You mean _when_ he does?” McGonagall murmured, her accent thicker than usual, and Hermione was quick to note that McGonagall’s eyes appeared to be a bit red-rimmed that morning.

There were nods of agreement at that from everyone else present, and Dumbledore once more backed down from whatever high horse he’d been about to climb, and he said no more on the subject, instead immediately launching into pairing people off for their ward assessments.

Hermione was a bit surprised, perhaps, that she was paired off with Severus - McGonagall _certainly_ didn’t look pleased to having been paired off with Slughorn - but accepted it for what it was, giving him a cursory nod as they waited to hear where their assignment was - the dungeons, as it turned out - and once Dumbledore dismissed them, the duo made their way in that general direction.

Severus was silent as they walked, his thoughts clearly focused on what was around them, though as soon as they got down into the dungeons, he led Hermione down an empty corridor and took her to one side so they could talk, and Hermione could feel a faint tingle in her arm where his fingers connected with it.

“Has Septima explained to you what we’re about to do?”

Hermione gave a nod of confirmation. “She has, yes. I um… I think there’s a way she and the Strain can sort of guide my hands as I cast. It’ll be much more straightforward than them trying to explain it and me attempt the motions myself.”

“Good. When you’re ready then…”

Hermione gave him a small smile before closing her eyes, letting Septima and Isadora take the reins for a bit, and when she reopened her eyes it was with a determined focus, her hand lifting, holding Septima’s wand high as she let spells and enchantments flow through her, let them speak through her in words she didn’t know, in languages she could only guess at.

She watched, idly it almost seemed, as Severus did the same, as spells of all different colors flowed through them and around them, as their spells sang with the existing wards that surrounded them and danced and played before finally melding and strengthening that which already existed.

It took a couple of hours, all told, before they’d covered the entirety of the dungeons - Hermione hadn’t realized before just how extensive they were - and both of them looked a tad-bit fatigued when they’d finished.

“We’ll need to eat something soon, replenish ourselves,” Severus murmured, stepping closer when he realized Hermione had turned to lean back against the wall behind her for support.

“Probably not a bad idea,” She agreed, giving him a faint smile, her eyes sliding closed again when he reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve over-taxed yourself.”

“Probably…” No use in denying it, really. “...the last couple of days have been a bit rough, you know?”

“You’ve shown a remarkable amount of strength, you know?”

“Have I?” She reopened her eyes to meet his. “I feel… So very _weak_ right now.”

“That’s the magical depletion talking, I’m sure of it.”

Hermione wanted to counter back, but there was something in Severus’ gaze that made her pause, and instead she gave a small nod, pushing herself back off of the wall and straightening herself up again.

“I suppose that means we should find something to eat.”

“Have you ever eaten in the kitchens?”

Hermione knew she probably looked as surprised as she felt in that moment, and she could hear both Septima and Isadora chuckle at her reaction, giving a shake of her head as she stared wide-eyed up at Severus.

“I-I haven’t, no… _Why?_ ”

“We’ll be able to talk in peace while we eat. The Great Hall is still serving as host to the students, and the elves know better than to talk about anything they might overhear.”

Hermione internally pulled a face at that, still feeling a bit bitter about the whole House Elves thing, and some of that face must’ve bled through into the real world, because Snape was suddenly giving her a curious look.

“...are you quite alright?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes a hint as she attempted to find the words she wanted before finally just… Launching herself into it.

“I don’t understand why it’s perfectly acceptable in our society to have _literal slaves_. House elves cook and clean and do everything for us, without pay, and we’re just expected to believe that they’re perfectly okay with it? Why, because they’re _magical creatures_ and therefore it’s okay? What’s the difference between us and the Death Eaters when it comes to valuing a life, then?”

Severus looked like he was about to say something, but Hermione continued on, cutting him off, and she could actually _feel_ Septima and Isadora rolling their eyes at her.

“Furthermore, what if _He_ wins, hmmm? Who’s to say he won’t do to muggleborns what we do to the elves, hmmm? And why is that I seem to be the only one wh-”

She was cut off suddenly when Severus quite literally reached up to clap a hand over her mouth, leaning in close as he met her gaze and replied to all of her rant in a low, rich murmur.

“Change doesn’t happen overnight, Hermione. If you think you’re the only one who’s felt this way, you’re wrong. There are more of us than you know. Sometimes it’s just easier to pick smaller battles to push along the bigger changes we’re trying to make.”

Hermione’s eyes had gone a bit wide again, but that was also partially because there was a faint tingle where Severus’ hand met her skin, and she could feel Septima and Isadora cheering because it _clicked_.

_**Oh. Shite…** _

_I told you, my child, that you would figure it out sooner than later._

_ He’s a good man, Hermione. _

_**He’s my profes-** _

_Not anymore, he’s not. It will take time, but if you allow it to happen, it’ll be the most beautiful thing you ever experience._

Hermione didn’t know what to make of that, and she suddenly found herself pulling away from Severus who was looking at her with quite a bit of confusion as she turned and started to make her way towards the kitchens.

“Are yo-?”

“Let’s go get something to eat, yes?”

_Are you being daft, again?_ __

_...my child?_

_**What if it isn’t** _ **me _he wants? I-I saw the way he looked at you before, Tima…_** __

_ Well, for starters, I prefer women, and he knows that, so you can forget that bit. _

_**But you’re far prettier than I am, an-** _

_ Oh, because you’re so  _ un _attractive, Hermione? Listen up, girl, if you honestly think Severus Snapes cares purely about the physical with a brain as big as his, you’ve got another thing coming._

Isadora, too, popped up with further encouragement, but Hermione did her best to block it out, staying quiet as she continued on her way towards the kitchens with Snape trailing along behind her, clearly a bit confused by whatever had just happened.

_**I’ve developed a silly little school-girl crush again, and that’s all there is to it.** _

She would hear absolutely nothing further on the subject, though that was harder to pull off when the other two were literally inside of her head with her.

Eventually, though, they’d come to a stop just outside of the tapestry that would lead them into the kitchens, and Snape leaned over to tickle the pear that would reveal the entrance, letting Hermione step through before he did, though he once more stopped her from going too far by gently taking hold of her elbow.

“If I have done something to upset you, Hermione, I apo-”

“It’s not you,” She quickly countered with a shake of her head. “I’ve just… There’s a lot going on in my head right now, and I need to sort some things out, I think. Let’s just… Let’s just enjoy lunch, shall we?”

Snape clearly wasn’t buying her argument, but he let it go with a single nod, removing his hand again so they could make their way into the kitchen.

Which was in absolute _chaos_ when they arrived.

Elves were yelling at one another, all of them scrambling to get food prepared and out when none of the tables were in their right places, and it quickly dawned on the two humans standing there that the elves had likely been dealing with this for days.

With everyone being kept in the Great Hall, without any sort of set schedule being maintained… The elves were at their wits ends.

“We need to help,” Hermione murmured, seeing Severus give a nod of agreement from out of the corner of her eye, and without another word, both of them moved forward, finding a house elf and offering their services.

They weren’t there to take over, just to lend another set of hands, though eventually things seemed to sort of die down again, and the two were able to once more migrate towards one another.

Two elves approached with plates of food for them both - a simple sandwich with chips and some roasted vegetables - and they moved over to a corner to tuck themselves away so they were out of the way just in case things turned chaotic again.

And they were quiet for a long moment as they ate, both of them tucking in with a relish considering how hungry they’d been even _before_ they’d jumped in to help the elves.

Eventually though, their eating slowed and they turned a bit in their chairs to face one another a bit more directly, dabbing at mouths with napkins and taking sips of their drinks to wet their lips before they started to talk again.

“We should begin discussing the Strain again soon, I believe,” Severus murmured, his voice low and clearly only directly meant for Hermione, though they both knew that the elves could likely hear him anyway.

At least their discretion was legendary.

“I agree. I haven’t had an opportunity yet to really study it further, to see what might be new after yesterday’s events.”

“I’m scheduled for patrol duty this evening, though perhaps some time tomorrow we can carve out a bit of time for discussion and review?”

Hermione gave a nod at that, a few things suddenly dawning on her at once, and she slumped a bit in her seat as she frowned.

“...will _I_ have to do patrols at some point? Also, will I… Will I be able to go back to Avila without you?”

Snape arched an eyebrow at the questions, clearly having not considered either of them himself before that moment, though a moment later he gave a half shrug and a shake of his head.

“I don’t see why you _wouldn’t_ have to do patrols, though at this point it would just be you standing guard in the Great Hall. It’s considerably easier to determine if a student is doing something they shouldn’t be if they’re all in one central location.”

That was fair enough, and Hermione nodded in agreement with that, though she’d been fairly more worried about the second question she’d posed.

“As for the other…” Snape went on after another careful moment of consideration. “...I suppose there’s only one way to find out. I would hazard a guess that you _could_ since clearly your magick is still part of you in some capacity, and therefore you are chaperoning Septima along with you.”

It made sense but felt a bit… Awkward.

And then, something else occurred to her.

“...if I can come and go as I please, won’t that potentially blow my cover faster?”

Severus swore. “...the other shoe, it would seem…”

Hermione felt herself sag again, her gaze dropping back down to the remains of her lunch which she gently pushed aside so she could cross her arms and lean against them on the tabletop.

“...I’ll have to have an Avilian present with me at all times now, won’t I?”

“There are worse fates,” Severus murmured, a hint of humor laced in his voice, but it didn’t give her much comfort.

“I know…”

“Perhaps there’s some merit in us discussing Avila being a war room for the Headmaster, yet,” Snape said after another long moment of contemplation, and Hermione turned her head to peer at him again.

“...how so?”

“If he does, you’d have more of an excuse to stay there and work on the Strain, would you not? You’re something of our first line of offense _and_ defense at this point. He’s going to want to keep you where he thinks he needs you the most.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Lucky me.”

“He won’t be there all the time himself. He’ll have to be seen in the castle in order to maintain his image for the Dark Lord. Take some comfort in that.”

Hermione nodded in response, though couldn’t manage a verbal one, letting out a small sigh as she picked at one of the remaining roasted vegetables on her plate with her fork.

_I still have much to show you, child. The sooner we can get started, the better._

_**I know. I just… Maybe I just want a moment to rest.** _

_And you’ll get it. Soon, I promise._

Hermione idly thought to herself that the Strain made a lot of promises, but honestly, how could she counter it? Isadora literally knew what she was talking about, didn’t she?

“We should head back to meet the others.” She finally broke the silence to say, pushing herself to her feet before grabbing her dirty dishes and heading towards the sink so they could be washed.

Severus fell in line behind her, and she could hear him murmuring to an elf before they left, though his voice was too low for her to make out just what exactly he was saying. The elf seemed pleased, however, and Hermione was sorely tempted to just ask.

She wasn’t given the opportunity, though, as a familiar, furious cold suddenly came over her, and she gasped as she felt her knees buckle with the sudden pain the cold induced in her, every nerve ending lighting up as her brain tried to fight back, as Isadora did the same.

_”I’ve got you now, poppet.”_

Hermione felt her knees give out and she hit the ground with a sickening crack, falling forward with a thud as her limbs seized and she was unable to brace herself against the fall.

And then, several things happened at once:

First, Severus ran to her side, reaching out to check on her as the Strain erupted from her body to encircle them both, much as it had just a couple of days previously in the Great Hall.

Second, the house elves had taken note of something being off, and immediately went on alert, many of them moving to form a protective ring around the two humans huddled in a mass in the middle of their kitchen.

Third, the voice that Hermione heard turned into a laugh, and she found enough strength in her to lift her head and peer up at the silhouette of the man that had been plaguing her for months.

Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, the elves took notice of this silhouette as well, a few of them moving as if to combat him or contain him using magick that only they themselves could possibly know.

They weren’t as successful as they could’ve possibly hoped - in fact the silhouette seemed to just laugh at their efforts - but it gave Hermione a small bit of comfort to know that yes, he actually _was_ there and others could see him as well.

Because it meant that maybe they actually could fight him and whatever was happening to her. Again.

“...Severus…” She croaked, trying to lift a hand to point at the silhouette, but he was shushing her, trying to keep her still as violent chills suddenly started to wrack her body, as Septima’s body was subjected all at once to what Hermione had gradually been forced to endure from the beginning.

_”You can’t hide from me forever, poppet. Your little beasties won’t be with you always.”_

“...please make it stop…”

“I’m trying, Hermione!”

But then, just as suddenly as the attack had started, it stopped again, and Hermione slumped as all the cold ebbed, leaving just a terrible, terrible ache in its wake.

_ What the ever-loving  _ FUCK _was that??_ _  
Are you alright my child?  
 **...no…**  
Who was that??  
Can you move?  
 **...not sure…**  
Why aren’t either of you answering me???  
I had hoped he wouldn’t find us here…  
 **...hurts…**_

Apparently she’d said that last bit out loud, as Severus murmured an apology, Hermione somehow managing to crack open her eyes to peer up at him, noticing the keen note of worry on his features as he studied her from where he held her in his arms.

“I need to get you to Pomfrey.”

She shook her head. “She can’t help me.”

“She can give you pain poti-”

“They won’t work-” She cut off, squeezing her eyes shut as a small aftershock of pain ran down her spine. “-not for this. I-I just need _heat_.”

Severus growled but gave a nod, carefully scooping her up into his arms before straightening and looking around at the house elves that were still standing in a circle around them.

“I need to get her back to Avila.”

“Master Snape can use our fireplace,” Grumbled one of the elves, an older elf that Hermione had noted earlier as likely being the leader. “But Kipsy wants a conversation with Master Snape later.”

“Anything you want,” Snape agreed, giving a small bow to the house elf before turning and heading straight towards the nearest fireplace, murmuring a thank you when another elf entirely threw a handful of floo powder into the flames and Snape could step in and whisk them away back to Avila.

Hermione was too busy trying not to lose herself in the warmth of his hold to notice that Isadora was starting to explain to Vector what had just happened, a conversation that was rapidly taking place in memory transference but that her own mind was too frazzled to comprehend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to yell at me. Y'all know where you can do so :)


	29. Chapter 28: The War Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order meets Avila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued love to you all for coming along this far on this journey with me <3

Hermione must’ve passed out as soon as they’d been engulfed by those green flames, because when she next opened her eyes, it was to find that she was in a strange bed in what could only be a spare Avila bedroom, the bed covered in blankets that were enhanced with warming charms and a rather impressive fire was roaring away in the fireplace.

Shifting a bit as she tried to remember how to move, she winced as she felt a terribly-familiar ache in her joints, cursing its return after having spent a handful of blissful hours without it.

_You did this for **months** without complaint?_ She heard Vector quietly ask, and she felt herself nod even as she formed a careful reply.

_**It was easier to hide in the winter. I could get away with wearing more layers and openly casting warming charms on my clothes.** _

_ You understand that’s not the point I’m trying to make, don’t you? _

But Hermione didn’t reply, instead moving to ease herself out of the bed, pleased to note that there was a pair of _very_ fuzzy slippers at the bedside, and she slipped her feet into them without hesitation before going off in search of the loo.

Once her bladder had been relieved, she made about finding something to change into - she’d been put to bed in the clothes she’d been wearing, after all - and was surprised to find a full wardrobe of clothing in the armoire.

_These… These are my things!_

There were so many different colors, and Hermione carefully ran a hand over the variety of robes in front of her, feeling the different textures and fabrics before her hands settled on a rich wool in a beautiful sapphire blue.

Making quick work of getting dressed, she debated on whether or not to keep the fuzzy slippers on, but ultimately decided to change into some heavy socks and boots, though she still winced in those few seconds where her feet were bare and they started to cramp from the cold.

A few more minutes just to make sure she was presentable, and she made her way out and into the Avila common room, her eyes widening as she took in the sizable crowd that was gathered there.

Apparently, quite a bit had happened while she’d been out of it.

While it didn’t seem as though the _entire_ Order was present, there were enough people there for Hermione to realize that Severus must’ve talked to Dumbledore who - rather thankfully - was not present himself.

But, there was Remus and Tonks standing off to one side, Arthur and Molly Weasley were chatting with Severus over by the kitchen - where it looked like Molly had staked her claim - and a few others that were standing about the oval table chatting over tea and coffee and scones that had been laid out, presumably by Molly.

Taking a step further into the room, she gave a nod to Remus when he glanced over at her before heading towards the kitchen in search of coffee, missing the way he narrowed his eyes at her and gave a small sniff.

“Good morning,” She murmured, letting out a surprised laugh when Molly pulled her close for a hug in greeting.

“Oh, it’s _so_ good to see you again, Septima,” Molly cooed as she pulled back, giving Septima’s arms a squeeze before turning towards the coffee she’d brewed and pouring her a cup exactly the way she drank it.

_Bless Molly Weasley, honestly!_

Hermione murmured her thanks, quirking an eyebrow up as she took her first sip of the steaming brew.

“So, what do you all think of Avila?” She asked after a moment, noting the way Severus had stepped closer to her, something she’d noticed when she’d suddenly gotten just a hint warmer again.

“Oh, it’s something,” Arthur replied, taking a sip of his tea. “Never seen anything like it, that’s for sure. Severus was explaining it to us earlier while you slept.”

“Yes, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you all first arrived.”

“No need to fret, dear,” Molly assured her. “We know it’s been difficult here over the last couple of days. At least we’re here now to help.”

“A blessing, that,” Came another voice from behind them, and they all turned to see that Remus had come to join them.

He was staring a hint suspiciously at Hermione/Septima, but it faded after a moment as he returned his attention to the present conversation.

“I’ve come to understand that Avila has done much already to help fight against You Know Who,” He continued, moving to top off his tea. “We could’ve used you all the first time around, I think.”

“Avila didn’t think we were ready for her,” Hermione countered, feeling three sets of eyes turn to face her, though Severus backed her up rather quickly.

“There’s much we need to catch you all up on, the least of which being that Avila is… Somewhat sentient.”

_Somewhat? I think I’m a bit more than that!_

Hermione hid a smile behind her coffee mug, though she felt a tad uncomfortable all of a sudden when she realized that Remus was staring at her again.

Before she could ask him about it, though, he turned away from her - as did they all - when a sudden crash came from the common room.

Tonks, it seemed, had struck.

“Oh, dear!” Molly exclaimed, immediately moving to help clean up the mess that Tonks had made when she dropped the coffee urn on top of the scones, Arthur going with her.

Severus and Remus, however, both lingered, and Hermione was a bit surprised when Severus whispered in a low, deep murmur to Remus.

“Is there a particular reason you keep staring at Septima like _that_ , Lupin?”

“Yes, there is,” Remus replied, his eyes narrowing as he once more glanced over at Hermione and he gave another sniff of the air.

“For starters, _that’s_ not Septima Vector.”

There was a sudden loud chorus of _**SHITE**_ in Hermione’s head, and she felt her eyes widen in shock and sudden fear.

“I am well aware of that-” Severus countered, his wand suddenly in his hand which, while he wasn’t pointing it directly at Lupin, it was clear there was a threat there nonetheless. “-but how do _you_ know that?”

Remus looked genuinely surprised at Severus’ response, though he was back to looking at Hermione strangely as he gave his reply.

“She smells wrong. It’s a good glamor, I’ll give you that, bu-”

“It’s not a glamor,” Severus countered, and Hermione couldn’t help the little swell of emotion she felt at him protecting her.

“But she isn’t-”

“Actually, I am,” Hermione joined in, though she winced as she went on. “...sort of.”

“...I’m not following.”

“It’s Septima’s body-” Severus began to explain, keeping his voice low so that only Remus would be able to hear him. “-but Hermione Granger is the one you’re currently speaking to.”

Remus took a half-step back in shock at that, though it was clear that he believed him by the way he gave a small nod and another little hesitant sniff.

“...that explains the smell then.”

“You can _smell_ me?” Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a touch uncomfortable.

“It’s difficult to explain, but yes. It’s more like your smell has combined with hers. I couldn’t place _yours_ at first, but I did know that hers was off. My apologies…” He shook his head suddenly before taking a step closer. “...how did this happen?”

“We’re still working that out,” Severus murmured. “It’s only _just_ happened, and the details are… Fuzzy, at best.”

Remus nodded again. “If there’s anything I can do to help?”

“We’ll keep you informed,” Severus drawled as he returned his wand to its sheath inside his sleeve. “But for now, we simply ask your discretion. There is… Much at stake, and it’s best if we keep this to ourselves until it’s safer to reveal.”

“I understand, and I’m… I’m sorry. Again.” Remus was looking at Hermione again, giving her a small bow of his head before he returned his gaze to Severus’, the two of them sharing a look that Hermione wasn’t going to begin to try and unpack.

Hermione murmured her forgiveness before Remus moved to take leave of them both, returning to Tonks side and chuckling as she started to tell him about her latest blunder.

“Do you think he’ll keep it?” Hermione quietly asked, looking up at Severus, and he’d be quick to notice the hint of fear in her two-toned gaze.

“If he knows what’s best for him, yes. Don’t forget-” He was suddenly grinning rather wickedly. “-I’m the one who brews his wolfsbane every month.”

“Severus!”

“I wouldn’t withhold it from him - I’m not _that_ evil - but I could add an ingredient that would… Make it taste worse.”

“Slytherin,” She teased.

“And don’t you forget it,” He replied, a teasing note of his own in his voice.

Hermione couldn’t quite stop the blush that crept across her features at that teasing, internally rolling her eyes at the way Septima and Isadora reacted to it.

_**Shut it, both of you.** _

They did not, but at least she was further distracted when Snape changed the topic.

“I’ll have to return to the castle soon to collect the Headmaster. He’ll want to be here to give and listen to updates.”

“Will we be bringing in more of the Order soon, as well?”

“Most likely. I’m sure the Headmaster will be discussing all possibilities with us when he arrives.”

“Joy.”

Severus smirked again but didn’t say anything else, instead turning from her with a faint billow of his robes as he made his way back out towards the common room and then off to his office.

Hermione took a moment to steady herself, enjoying the warmth of the coffee mug in her hands before she made her way back into the common room herself, finding a seat and easing herself into it as she let the conversations around her sort of float about and in and through her, picking up what she could, but for the most part she was content to just sit back and allow herself to relax for a few minutes.

It didn’t last long, of course, and all eyes turned to face them as Severus returned to the common room with Dumbledore in tow, the elder wizard lacking _something_ as he looked out over those assembled.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that the sparkle in his eyes was gone, but it was different compared to how she’d previously witnessed the absence.

He just looked _tired_ , like the old man that he certainly was.

He carefully called the meeting to order, everyone moving to claim a seat - Hermione was a bit startled when she realized that Ginny and Draco had joined them at some point - and she gave a nod to Severus when he (rather unsurprisingly) took a seat to her left.

Thankfully, Dumbledore kept his opening statement brief. He’d more or less figured out the opinions of everyone around him, knew that the failings from two days previous rested entirely on his shoulders and he was doing his best not to collapse under the weight of it.

It wasn’t long before the conversation took a natural turn towards figuring out where to go from where they currently were, and Dumbledore faltered slightly when pressed for a plan of action.

It was a surprise, that, but perhaps what was even _more_ surprising was when Severus spoke up, his voice a low, careful murmur - Hermione was rather starting to enjoy his lecturing voice, wasn’t she? - as he informed those seated around the table that, perhaps, not all was lost.

“Much has transpired over the course of the last seven months,” He started, an eyebrow arching as he surveyed those around him. “The least of which being this very house. Avila… Is more than any of us could have anticipated, and much of the reason why we are still sitting here today is due to its presence.

“We could give you a full, detailed report on all of the conversations that were carried between these walls, all of the plans that were built. But time is off the essence, isn’t it? I think one of the things that you all need to be made aware of - more so than anything else - is of a particular bit of magick that was handed down to us the day that Avila came to us.”

Hermione realized suddenly where he was going with his speech - a brief moment of panic hitting her, because hadn’t they decided that they _weren’t_ going to talk about this? - but ultimately decided that staying calm was probably a better option.

Spilling the beans on the Ophiuchus Strain was one thing. It was still, ultimately, up to her how much information was _actually_ shared.

“What sort of magick, Severus?” Arthur was asking, looking quite intrigued, and Hermione noticed the way he was casually holding hands with Ginny, seated on his right.

“It’s called the Ophiuchus Strain,” Severus replied. “It’s… Well, it’s an Arithmancy equation unlike anything else we’ve ever seen before.”

That seemed to be her cue, so Hermione cleared her throat and leaned forward a bit, this time fully-embracing the things Isadora and Vector were telling her to hopefully help sell her actions a bit more convincingly.

“For those of you who never studied Arithmancy here at Hogwarts, it’s a sort of divination using numerology and other mathematical computations. This _particular_ equation deals with current events.”

“What sort of current events?” Remus asked, looking just as intrigued as Arthur - and, admittedly, everyone else - did.

“Well, technically, it’s a prediction spell for the final outcome of this war.”

And so very, _very_ much more, but Hermione was keeping that bit to herself, wasn’t she?

Besides, the way the room suddenly erupted into people clamoring to be heard, it was probably best that she hadn’t said more just yet.

“Everyone settle down!” Dumbledore called out from his seat, lifting a hand to get everyone’s attention before he asked the question that everyone else seemed to be trying to form.

“...did the spell predict the events of two days ago?”

“As I’ve come to understand?” Hermione replied. “No sir, it did not. There were too many variables at play.”

“What sort of variables?” Remus again.

“I have to be honest with you-” She replied again, taking on a bit more of a contrite look as she glanced around the room. “-I’ve only been steward of the spell for a grand total of about three days.”

“Who had it before you did, then?” Molly asked with a frown.

“Hermione Granger,” Severus answered, his voice that low, rumbling murmur again, and Hermione winced when she saw Molly duck her head to hide her suddenly-wet eyes.

“Miss Granger and I were working together some prior to the Equinox-” Hermione went on, silently realizing that it was getting easier to think about herself as a separate entity now than it had been the day before. “-and I have something of an idea of how the Strain operates now. However, it’s going to take me some time to figure out where it’s going next.”

“Do you have any ideas yet?” Dumbledore asked as he leaned back some in his chair, his fingers idly stroking his beard as he studied her over the top of his glasses.

“I haven’t had time to really look yet, sir.” Hermione shrugged. “I only just took it on again after waking up in the hospital wing the night before last. I _do_ however, have access to Hermione’s notes, and I’m hoping they’ll be a good aid for me once I get started.”

“But without Hermione here-” Ginny quietly interjected. “-you’re still a bit behind, aren’t you?”

Hermione gave a nod, desperately wishing she could pull her friend into a hug and reassure her that everything was going to be just fine. “I am.”

“There is, however-” Severus piped up again, shifting a bit in his seat so he could lean slightly to his side, and Hermione relaxed as she felt his warmth spread a bit towards her. “-one thing we have on our side that the Dark Lord does not.”

“Which is?” Remus asked.

“The knowledge that the Strain is still with us. As far as the Dark Lord knows, Hermione Granger is the only person who has - or, for that matter, _can_ \- study it. She is the only person who carries it, and therefore, her being in her current state is to our advantage.”

“Because it means _we_ aren’t studying it either?” Ginny asked, and Hermione gave a nod in confirmation.

“That’s correct. The only people who know the truth are inside this room, right now.”

There was a smattering of murmurs that broke out with that revelation, and something that looked akin to hope was beginning to blossom again in everyone’s eyes.

It was… Certainly a sight to behold, and Hermione felt a little swell of pride rise in her chest when she realized that she was part of the reason for that reaction.

“How long, Septima-” Dumbledore piped up, interrupting her train of thought. “-do you believe it will take for you to get up to speed with Miss Granger’s notes?”

“A few days? I’ve glanced through them previously, as I’ve sort of mentioned, but to really get down into the nitty gritty details is going to take time. The sooner I can get started, the better.”

Dumbledore slowly started to nod at that, clearly thinking about everything he’d just learned, and Hermione could practically _hear_ his internal monologue as he analyzed the chess board before him.

“Very well. I would like to be kept abreast of your progress, and shall endeavour to provide you with whatever resources you need to quickly and accurately interpret the numbers.”

Hermione murmured her thanks before leaning back in her seat again, feeling as though her part of the conversation was over for the time being, though she was sure they would circle back around to her at some point.

Over the next couple of hours, Severus - and even, occasionally, Ginny and Draco - fielded questions about Avila and helped those gathered come to a better understanding of what had happened within its four walls over the course of the school year. Hermione remained silent, though if there were answers she could provide because she’d ‘possibly seen something about them in her Strain studies’ she answered.

But, for once, it was nice to not be Hermione Granger, Avila - nee Gryffindor - Know-It-All.

By the time the meeting drew to a close and everyone was getting to their feet to stretch out legs and back kinks, there seemed to be a bit more of a general sense of purpose around them. There was a Plan, and a Path to Achieve It, and maybe even a bit of hope that the Path itself was followable.

Slowly, the Avilians began to escort everyone else out, though - naturally - Hermione stayed behind, quietly telling Dumbledore that she thought it best if she stayed where she was. Hermione’s things and her notes were already there, after all, and Avila had made a space for her, so why go back to the castle if she didn’t necessarily need to just yet?

He wished her a good night, and good luck and then made his leave of her, leaving her alone in the common room Draco and the assembled Weasley’s who seemed to be having a particularly deep conversation, and she retired to the kitchen for a bit of tea so they could have their privacy.

She was alone for a while with just her thoughts - which sounded suspiciously like Septima and Isadora - before a distinctly male voice cut through, causing her to jump slightly as she whirled around to face the intruder.

“Bloody hell, Severus…” She lifted a hand to rest it over her heart, resisting the urge to reach out and thwap him when he smirked at her reaction.

“My apologies. I didn’t realize you were so lost in thought.”

“Not exactly hard to do that these days, is it?”

“You would know better than I, it would seem.”

That brought up a small smile, and Hermione gave a nod as she set her empty tea cup down and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Everyone out, then?”

He nodded. “I just escorted Arthur and Molly to the castle. Accommodations have been made for them, it would seem, though I did not ask where exactly.”

“Ginny’s glad they’re here, I’m sure. I think it’s been hard on her this year… Being all alone.”

“Well… Not _entirely_ alone.” He smirked. “She’s had Draco to keep her company.”

It was Hermione’s turn to smirk at that, certainly offering no argument.

“Once I’m back to being _me_ , I’ll have to ask her what that conversation was about between the four of them before you took Arthur and Molly back.”

“I’m sure we could both hazard a reasonable guess.”

Hermione nodded, though before she could say anything else, Severus had pressed on.

“I would, however, like to discuss other things with you reasonably soon.” Hermione didn’t have to guess at what sort of conversation he meant, and she nodded her agreement as a sort of permission for him to continue.

“Are you feeling up to having that discussion tonight? I could have dinner sent to us in my office if you would like?”

Hermione paused for a second to consider before giving him a nod and a small smile. “I can’t promise I’ll be at my conversational best, but I’d like to put in an effort at least.”

“Good. Shall I arrange for dinner around seven, then? We can eat and begin work again after that?”

She nodded again. “That sounds like a good plan, yes.”

“I shall see you this evening then. You should get some rest-” He pressed on, his eyebrows drawing together a hint. “-you’re still looking a little peaked after yesterday’s incident.”

Hermione couldn’t have agreed more, giving him one last smile before moving to make her way out of the kitchen and towards the temporary room she’d been provided. “Until this evening, then, Severus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! It's a cliffhanger that shouldn't fill you all with dread!!
> 
> I still encourage you to yell at me, though ;) ([Tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) is a really good place to do that if you're interested)


	30. Chapter 29: Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner by candlelight, and a conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all make doing all of this worth it. I hope you know that <3

Hermione returned to her new room to take a much-needed break, settling down in the chair by the fire for a bit and curling up with a book as she tried her best to relax and ignore the gentle teasing of the two witches inside her head.

She made it all of about half an hour before she gave up and pushed her book aside, feeling fidgety and desperate for a walk or something to do, but leaving Avila wasn’t an option. The whole purpose of her returning to her rooms was so she could get some rest, but she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts - not when her thoughts weren’t entirely just hers anymore - but getting involved in the conversation Isadora and Septima were having also didn’t seem like the best of options.

_**It’s not a date!** _

_ It’ll be a candlelit dinner with just the two of you sitting about talking. _

_**Of course it’ll be candlelit-**_ Hermione was quick to counter. _**-there’s no bloody electricity here!**_

_My poor child…_

_**Stop it. Both of you, please!** _

_ I’m not saying I want you to march in there and shag him silly, Hermione - you  _ are _still in my body, after all - but this resisting thing-_ __

_**I’m not** _ **resisting _anything! I just want… I-I just… Oh. Bugger._**

She didn’t realize she’d gotten up and had been pacing back and forth across the room until she suddenly sat down again, her head in her hands as realizations started to crash down around her with a bit more force.

_...can I show you, my child? What it is that I know? What I have forseen coming since the beginning?_

Hermione gave a nod, letting out a small sniffle as she wiped one of her eyes with the back of her hand, quietly wishing for Crookshanks to be there with her so she could lay down and bury her face in his fur like she used to.

Slowly, though, a vision - or was it a memory of something yet to happen? - began to creep across her mind’s eye, and it was easier now to make out faces.

Easier now to place the swirling patterns of color, to see the stark contrast of black hair falling across equally-black eyes, seeing three wands (or was it seven?) raised in preparation to fight, feeling a warmth surround her as the smell of oud and bergamot tickled at her senses.

More images flooded forth, of long talks and quiet nights - though Isadora was careful to keep away the sorts of images she’d shown Hermione before, likely for Septima’s comfort - and Hermione felt a bit more focused again when the visions ended and she reopened her eyes to take in her surroundings.

The Strain itself had spilled out of her, floating and gently swirling in front of her, and Hermione took a deep, steadying breath before pushing herself to her feet and giving it a nod.

She had work to do, after all.

And maybe - just maybe - the future wasn’t quite as terrifying as she thought.

*

Hermione spent the next couple of hours going over the Strain, researching the new sets of numbers that had emerged after the events of the Equinox, comparing and contrasting notes with Septima as Isadora helped guide them as much as she could.

It was slow going - as much as Isadora _knew_ , there was more still that she didn’t - but by the end of her researching session, Hermione felt as though she had a better handle on the situation again, and there was quite a bit that she thought she’d be able to discuss with Severus when she joined him for dinner in a couple of hours.

The other two started quietly teasing her again, especially when she made a note that she should probably change her clothes and maybe do something with her hair - she countered that it was the first time in her life that she’d been able to do something other than just pray the beast stayed tame - and when it came time for her to head towards Severus’ office, she’d changed into a beautiful set of violet robes that somehow complimented both her and Septima’s eyes, but had decided to leave her hair down for a change.

Just because she _could_.

The common room was quiet as she made her way across it and towards Severus’ office and Hermione idly wondered where everyone was - had they all returned to the castle, or were they hunkered down somewhere else for the night? - but let the thought slide away as she lifted a hand to knock on Severus’ down, smiling gently up at him when he opened the door a moment later.

“Good, you’re here,” He murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he stepped aside and waved her in, closing the door back behind her with a faint click.

“I hope I’m not late?”

“You’re a few minutes early, actually,” He replied with a faint shake of his head, his tone reassuring. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of asking the elves to send our supper to my private rooms. I thought it might be pleasant to have dinner at a proper table as opposed to the one in my office.”

Hermione gave a nod of agreement, hoping the lighting was low enough that he wouldn’t see the blush that suddenly stained her cheeks when Isadora and Septima reacted to that revelation.

He led her through his office and towards the bookcase that was situated behind his desk, and while Hermione was confused at first, she quickly realized that there was a space _behind_ the bookcase itself, protected by some sort of illusion, and Severus led her through the illusion and out the other side, the two of them reappearing in what could only be his private quarters.

...and she thought _she_ had a lot of books…

It was a warm, richly decorated living room they found themselves in, with a couple of hearty chairs by the fire, a couch close by those, and off to the other side was a small dining area, already set for dinner for the two of them. Tucked away in a corner was a closed doorway, and Hermione mentally guessed that it led to his bedroom, a thought she was keen on moving rather quickly past.

But there was enough directly in front of her that it was easy enough to slide past the thoughts that had tried to take over - thoughts that Septima and Isadora were already teasing her about - and her fingers suddenly itched with the desire to examine the covers of all the books surrounding her.

Severus didn’t seem to mind her hesitantly stepping forward, watching as she made her way towards the bookshelf closest, though he did make his way closer as she reached out her hand finally to test the softness of the leather in front of her.

“I’d avoid doing that on the books closer to the fireplace if I were you.”

Hermione snapped her hand back rather quickly and Severus chuckled at her reaction before shaking his head. “ _These_ books are safe. They’re just a collection of Potions texts from around the world that I’ve collected over the years.”

“Have you traveled much, then?”

“Sadly, no,” He was shaking his head again, his eyes turned towards the bookshelves beside them. “Just parts of Europe, though I… _hope_ that one day I can perhaps travel and see all the places I’ve enjoyed reading about.”

“I hope you do, too,” Hermione murmured, giving him a gentle smile when he turned glittering black eyes to peer down at her.

Their conversation was interrupted, however, by the sound of a faint pop over by the dining table, and they looked over to see a small elf setting down plates for them both.

“Shall we then?” Severus asked, holding his hand out in a clear invitation for her to head over first.

She agreed, and soon enough they’d tucked themselves into their respective chairs and were examining the meals before them, a roast complete with all sorts of hearty vegetables and a surprisingly-complimentary red wine.

Hermione wouldn’t have expected something like this for a dinner with her professor, but she supposed Isadora and Septima had a point when they kept reminding her that he really wasn’t her professor anymore, was he?

They’d sort of been thrown into being colleagues relatively quickly, and given that the two of them had already been building a working relationship even before Hermione had been shoved into Septima’s body, it wasn’t really a surprise that they’d made this next little step.

“I hope the food is agreeable?” Severus asked after a couple of quiet moments, and Hermione gave a nod, taking a sip of her wine to swallow the bite she’d been chewing before replying.

“It is, thank you. I’m glad you suggested this.”

Severus smirked. “There’s much work to be done, and I’ve found over the years that work is usually more… Agreeable if the body is as fed as the mind, especially if there is also pleasant company with whom to share the meal.”

Hermione felt a little bashful at that, but gave him a small nod and a smile all the same, ducking her head down to hopefully hide her blush a hint as she took another bite of food.

_ You hear that?? He finds you **pleasant!** _

“What all did you want to begin working on tonight, then?” Hermione pushed on, steadfastly ignoring the voices in her head.

“I thought, perhaps, we might take a closer look at the Strain. See what’s new after the events of the Equinox. I may not have the understanding of it that you do, but I should be able to follow along well enough that you can perhaps bounce ideas off of me.”

Hermione gave a nod at that. “I was working with it some earlier after the Order meeting when I couldn’t quite get settled down enough. There are a couple of things that are bothering me, and I’d love to have a second opinion on what it might mean.”

“Does Septima not have any ideas?”

“She does, but I- well, if we’re being honest, Severus?” He gave a nod for her to continue. “I think she and I are on too-similar of a wavelength right now. Our ideas are running congruent with one another’s, and I think it might be beneficial to hear someone else’s interpretation just in case.”

“I see. The two of you are, rather unsurprisingly, very similar in a lot of ways, so it doesn’t come as much of a shock to hear that your ideas are similar. Given your… Current state, as it were, I would hazard a guess that if we were to test your magicks compatibility, they would come out quite strong.”

“I didn’t realize that was a possible thing to test _for_.”

“It’s not common anymore,” He clarified, using his wine glass for a hint of emphasis as he lifted it to his mouth to wet his lips. “But it used to be so among pureblood families who were marrying off their children in an effort to try and… Reduce the risk of a non-magical birth. I believe Aurors are still tested this way to ensure they have a strong partner when they join the force, though it isn’t an exact science. The strongest of magickal compatibility would mean absolutely nothing if the two individuals had absolutely-clashing personalities.”

Hermione was nodding in understanding as she listened, and had put her cutlery down in favor of resting her arms on the table and leaning forward a bit, clearly a captive audience for all that it certainly wasn’t proper etiquette.

Not that she really _cared_ about that, mind, and Severus certainly didn’t seem bothered by it.

“As you’ve explained it previously-” She was replying, thinking back on some of their conversations when they’d first been admitted into Avila. “-mixing magicks only really works when two people aren’t just compatible, but also trust one another.”

“Correct.”

“Well, I trust Tima because she was my professor. Could it be that we’re thinking alike now because she’s the one that taught me Arithmancy?”

“Possibly,” Severus agreed, though he seemed a touch hesitant, continuing on a moment later once he’d collected his thoughts a bit further. “Though, by that logic, you and I would be thinking along the same lines about certain things, and thus your reasoning for seeking me out for an alternate opinion would be moot.”

Hermione supposed that was fair enough and gave a small shrug of acquiescence. “Fair enough.”

“It’s a sound theory - and perhaps in the case of you and Septima, it holds true - but I would hesitate to suggest it held true for everyone who has ever taught you something. You’ve learned important things from the Headmaster, though you and I both know the two of you would be rather far from compatible when it came to mixing magicks.”

Hermione snorted at that, certainly not disagreeing. “Again, fair enough.”

She looked up from her plate to notice that Severus was watching her, examining her features for something about which Hermione could only hazard guesses, and a part of her wished terribly in that moment that she could read his mind.

“It’s… Strange,” He commented, a hint of amusement in his voice because obviously she’d caught him staring, though he certainly didn’t seem abashed by it. “Seeing you make your usual faces when it’s not _your_ face making them.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Hermione replied, a hint of confused humor in her own voice.

“I’ve made it something of a habit over the years to study the people around me, to notice ticks and tells that the average person might miss. I think it’s partially the reason why I’ve survived as long as I have in this conflict.”

“I make faces?”

“Everyone does, Hermione,” He chuckled again. “Especially the younger they are. You wore your heart fully on your sleeve your first couple of years here, but you’ve learned to school your features more as you’ve matured. You still wrinkle your nose a bit when you’re thinking about something particularly perplexing, but at least you don’t frown as hard as you used to.”

“...and you’re saying I’m _still_ doing that?”

“You are, yes.” He was nodding in confirmation, still smirking a touch at her. “Vector was always more prone to fidgeting with her fingers when she was thinking about something. Always tapping out nonsensical rhythms on whatever flat surface was closest.”

_They aren’t nonsensical! They make perfect sense if you’re an Arithmancer!_

“Merlin, what else have you noticed?”

“It would probably take less time to tell you things I _haven’t_ noticed over the years…”

Soon enough, they both had finished their meals and had relaxed enough while they chatted that it didn’t seem inappropriate to start working, and Severus helped Hermione clear a bit of space there in the middle of the room so she could move a bit more freely once she called the Strain forth.

When she did, he moved to stand beside her, peering up at the floating blue orb, and Hermione wondered just what was going on in that brilliant mind of his while she herself once more resisted the urge to press closer to his warmth which she was feeling quite keenly due to his closeness.

“There certainly seems to have been some changes since last I saw it,” He commented, squinting slightly as he watched the swirls before him. “Though I believe I’ve mentioned before that Arithmancy was never a strong point for me.”

“There have been, yes,” Hermione confirmed, lifting her wand to point at a bit in particular. “This strand here, for example, is entirely new. We only just noticed it for the first time today.”

“What does it mean, if you were to hazard a guess?”

Hermioned sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she attempted to figure out how to answer. “I **think** \- and I stress that think very deeply - that it has to deal with the defector in His ranks. They’re the missing link we couldn’t see before the Equinox, and I think they’re the keystone in what happens between now and the Solstice.”

“So, the Solstice _is_ still in play then?”

“At this point, all signs point to that being the final battle, yes. I’ve noted all of the key players - Harry included - are present, and while it’s still a bit too far out for me to see details clearly, I feel a bit more confident about it again.”

“So, we have approximately three months to prepare.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Severus heaved a sigh at that, but looked resolute, at least. “I suppose it could be worse. Three months to prepare the castle is doable, especially with Avila on our side.”

“I think the main issue at this point is figuring out how Harry is going to get here. We already know he can’t enter through Hogsmeade or any of the surrounding forest now, for that matter, so unless we manage to capture him and bring him here ourselves…”

“Have you heard anything further from Mister Weasley since his visit?”

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she tried not to think about how little time realistically passed since that night. “Unfortunately, no.”

“That’s unfortunate, yes. He could easily get Harry here for us if we needed him to.”

“You mean he could just… Apparate Harry here?”

“Indeed.”

“...what about the Horcrux part?”

“There are potions to… Make it so Potter wouldn’t necessarily know what was happening.”

“You mean like an Imperius potion?” Hermione scoffed, thinking _surely_ Severus couldn’t be serious.

“It’s more effective than the Imperius, actually-” Severus countered, not at all phased by her reaction to his comment. “-and doesn’t have to be readministered quite as frequently. Plus, it has the added bonus of not being an Unforgivable due to its liquid - and therefore not spell-like - nature.”

Hermione knew she was staring, knew her mouth had fallen open in shock, but honestly, with a reply like that, how could she _not?_

“...is there an actual potion for everything, then?”

“Nearly, yes. We were mixing plant and animal byproducts long before we attempted to harness magick with wands to get the same effect. Potions is one of the oldest forms of magick there is, and it’s the one that’s still - arguably - the hardest to master.”

“And then Muggles took it a step further and called it chemistry.”

“Essentially, yes. Is not what they’re doing magic in its own right? Is it not magical to develop the Polio vaccine? Or to come as close as they have to curing cancer?”

Hermione agreed with him, and while her eyes might’ve returned to staring at the swimming mass of numbers before her, her mind was certainly focused on what he’d just told her.

_**A potion for everything…** _

_ You’re thinking of something, aren’t you? _

_**What if there’s a potion that could fix our current predicament?** _

But before anything else could be said on the matter, the Strain suddenly shuddered, a section of it turning a violent shade of red as numbers scattered apart and flung themselves back together in a new and drastically chaotic way, and Hermione actually _did_ take a step back at that, not realizing she’d backed into Snape until she felt his hands come up to rest on her arms to steady her.

“...what just happened?” He quietly asked once the Strain had settled again, his hands still holding her arms for a moment, and Hermione realized she’d pressed herself back against him a touch in her unconscious seeking of warmth.

“I-I’m not sure,” She shook her head, pulling away once she’d come back to her senses a bit, blushing again and glad that she had her back to Severus as she stepped back towards the Strain. “Something changed, but I’m not sure what yet.”

“It happened in here-” Severus was pointing at a section of numbers that were twisting around one another, and Hermione was sure that they hadn’t been before. “-can you make it out at all?”

“Given the base code, it’s something to do with the Headmaster? But it involves him and another pers-”

She froze suddenly, eyes going wide as she blinked, sure she was seeing things.

“...Hermione?”

“It’s Dumbledore and the defector, Severus. _This_ confirms it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” She was nodding, giving him a hesitant smile as she and Vector quickly ran through the numbers and came to a potential conclusion as to who the person in question was.

“...what else, Hermione?” He had stepped close again, close enough for Hermione to _feel_ his warmth, and she was sure she probably looked a bit manic when she turned her gaze up to meet his.

And it was her turn to grip his upper arms, because, if she was _right_ -?

“I-I think it’s Narcissa Malfoy.”

-they already had a reason on their side for Narcissa to help them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me you love me. You know you want to ;)


	31. Chapter 30: Continuing Candlelight Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further discussions are had, and plans are tentatively made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin, but I love y'all. Have I mentioned that before? Because I do.

“Narcissa?” Severus was looking at her as though she’d completely lost her mind. Maybe she had.

He wasn’t making any efforts to get away from her hold, though, and his own hands had come up to gently grasp her elbows.

“I recognize a certain string of numbers-” Hermione explained, turning away from him just enough to point to the numbers in question, though one hand lingered on his upper arm, just as his lingered at her elbow.

“-here, see? This particular number sequence is the same as someone else’s already recognized by the Strain. Draco Malfoy. Whoever this person is, they share Draco’s last name. Of the two, who do you think is more likely the defector in His ranks? Lucius or Narcissa?”

Severus was nodding again, moving closer still both to her and to the Strain to get a better look, and Hermione shuddered slightly when she realized that his hand had slid to rest against the middle of her back for a moment before it retreated and he crossed his arms over his chest.

There was a warm spot left behind where his hand had been, though, and even the voices in her head had been shocked into silence over what had just happened.

“Narcissa. I agree,” He finally replied after a long moment of thought, an eyebrow arched when he turned back to look at her. “She was never as much of a loyal follower as Lucius was - and they both certainly paled in comparison to Bellatrix - and I know she was _displeased_ when Draco took the Mark…”

“Do you think she’s doing this now to try and help Draco?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Severus agreed. “Her only son? Who somehow broke rank and was taken _out_ of Slytherin for what was likely the first time in Malfoy family history? He’s proven and prov _ing_ that he’s more than just another mindless follower, and if you’re correct, Hermione, it would prove that maybe he’s given her the courage to be so, as well.”

“So, knowing this-” Hermione slowly started to reply, her mind whirling a million miles an hour. “-how would you approach her? Or would you approach her at all?” She paused, looking up at the Strain and frowning a bit, not realizing she was making the exact face Severus had mentioned just a short time ago.

“I’d like to speak with Draco on the matter,” Severus rumbled, his gaze going back and forth between the Strain and the woman standing next to him. “He might have some insight that would make it easier for me to speak with her. Perhaps he might even wish to speak with her himself.”

Hermione was listening intently, yes, but her eyes had gone back to focusing on the Strain, on the numbers that were swirling around with Narcissa’s, her frown deepening as she remembered just _who_ exactly Narcissa was swirling with.

“...there’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Either she’s already spoken with Dumbledore, or she’s about to. Her numbers are mixed with his.”

“I still intend to speak with Draco on the matter.” Severus was shaking his head as he spoke. “Narcissa likely does not realize what she’s getting into by speaking with the Headmaster.”

“No, I’m sure she doe-”

Hermione was interrupted by a sudden pop, both her and Severus whirling around at the sound. For all that it had been soft, they’d been so focused that they’d sort of lost sight of everything else around them, so when an elf appeared to take away their dinner plates and leave behind dessert, well…

...at least the elf didn’t take it personally that two wands were suddenly pointed at it.

When it disappeared again, Hermione let out a small, embarrassed chuckle, feeling her cheeks heat up in a blush, and she made quick work of stowing her wand away in its holster while Severus did much the same.

“Perhaps we could use a small respite?” Severus suggested, peering down at her, an amused smirk still lingering on his lips and Hermione really couldn’t stop herself from licking her own as she agreed with him.

“We wouldn’t want the dessert to go to waste, after all…”

This time, Hermione wasn’t surprised when Severus reached out and let his hand rest on the small of her back, guiding her back towards the table and to her seat which he was sure she claimed before he moved to seat himself.

The elves had provided Severus and Hermione with something surprisingly light for dessert, a sort of roasted peaches and cream affair with a sparkling white wine to wash it down with, though both of them were slow to eat, enjoying the dish while they continued talking about their most recent Strain discovery.

But… Even after they’d finished eating, and they’d both taken their last sips of their drink, they remained seated at the table, still talking, though the conversation had shifted into something more personal.

“It’s possible that such a potion exists-” Severus was speaking, his voice a low, thoughtful murmur. “-but to know for certain, I would have to know which spell was cast against the two of you in the first place.”

“But, once you knew that…?”

“I must be honest, Hermione, there’s no guarantee.”

She heaved a sigh at that, falling back into her chair a bit more fully, a hand lifting to pinch the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes and fought against a sudden swell of emotion that she _knew_ didn’t just belong to her.

_There’s a way back..._ _  
**There** _ **has _to be!_**

But Isadora was oddly silent throughout all of this, and Hermione couldn’t quite find the strength to ask why that might be.

“Hermione…” Came a low rumble from beside her, and she jumped slightly at the sound, not having heard Severus get up let alone come to kneel beside her, one hand resting on the arm of her chair while the other was held out towards her in invitation.

Or maybe it was asking for permission? She wasn’t sure, but her hand fell away from her eyes to take his, giving it a small squeeze as she felt his do the same.

“I’ve never been one to coddle…” He continued, looking up at her face, though Hermione was rather pointedly staring at their joined hands. “...or one to provide hope that might be false. I’m not that sort of man, and you know that.”

“I know,” She agreed, voice hardly a whisper, and she was sure that the tears in her eyes weren’t just her own.

“If we’re able to learn which spell was used, I will endeavour to find its counter, or develop a potion of my own if I have to. But, as skilled of a potioneer as I am, I would be doing us both a disservice if I were to promise now that which may be impossible later on.”

Hermione sniffed, giving him a faint nod of understanding before she lifted her gaze to meet his, a bit taken aback by the intensity in those glittering depths.

He was serious, wasn’t he?

“Thank you,” She breathed, her hand tightening a fraction in his again, and she attempted to give him a smile, but it was rather watery and didn’t last very long.

He frowned at her thanks, eyebrows drawing together a bit. “Why are you thanking me, Hermione? I’ve only just-”

“Because you’re being _honest_ with me, Severus,” She quietly interrupted. “You’re being a realist, and not sugar coating things that don’t need to be sugar coated. It’s… Appreciated.”

“I will never sugar coat things,” He carefully chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet and then helped her to her own. “Of _that_ you can rest assured.”

“I know. It’s… Refreshing, actually.”

He squeezed her hand again, looking down at her, clearly not minding their closeness, and Hermione once more found herself resisting the urge to press closer, to absorb that warmth which seemed to be radiating off of him.

As if on cue, she suddenly had a violent, icy wave course through her system, causing her to shudder and curl in on herself a bit, her grip on his hand tightening in reflex, but he didn’t seem to mind.

If anything, he drew closer, and Hermione felt a different sort of shudder run through her when she felt him lift his hand to cup her face, his fingers and palm rough and calloused from years of working with them, but _oh_ Hermione didn’t mind at all, did she?

Isadora and Septima both were completely silent, and Hermione could feel them holding their breath in anticipation of whatever was about to happen.

“You’re shivering…”

“I-I’m just a little cold is all…”

He pressed a hint closer at that, and Hermione had to tilt her head back a touch further to look up at him and meet his gaze.

“It’s not another attack is it?” He lifted his head for a moment to look around them, just in case.

She shook her head at the question, her hands having found a purchase on his waist, her fingers gently digging into the fabric they found there. “N-No… Just a part of life right now, I suppose…”

“I could conjure you a blanket?” He asked, his gaze returning to hers.

“I-It’s not so bad… Here with you.”

His eyebrows drew together a hint in confusion at her confession - and _that_ had certainly pushed forth a reaction from her companions - but while Hermione could feel her cheeks heat up in yet another blush, she wasn’t going to back down from it now that she’d made the admission.

Once a Gryffindor, it seemed...

“...I’m always warmer when you’re near. The cold fades away and I-I feel _normal_ again… Like myself…”

The hand that had been holding hers slid away at that, but only so that it could gently wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer and Hermione couldn’t stop her eyes from fluttering shut as she felt that warmth start to seep into her skin, her own hands sliding up to his chest where she gently fisted the front of his robes as she let out a soft, blissful sigh of contentment.

The hand at her cheek slid back to run through her hair, and Hermione was just beginning to wonder how he’d managed it so effortlessly when she **realized** , stiffening slightly in his hold as she reopened her eyes and lifted them to meet his.

He was so close... She could stand up on her tiptoes and his lips would be _right there…_

“Hermione…?”

_Let it happen, my child.  
He wants it, too!  
 **...but is it**_ **me _he wants? Or your body, Tima?_** _  
Hermione, don’t do something stu-! _

“I-I should go…” She carefully pushed herself away from him, and she wasn’t sure which hurt more: the fact that he let her go so easily or the look in his eyes that clearly said he didn’t want to, his hands moving to fist at his sides as she took a step back from him.

“I’m sorry if I have… Upset you.”

“It’s not you,” She whispered as she blinked against the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. “...I-I just… I don’t think…”

_You absolutely **daft** child!_

“...Hermione?”

_**Who gave you the right to look at me like that, Severus Snape? It isn’t fair…**   
I’m with Isadora on this one! You’re being a daft numpty. _

“...I’m not _me_ right now and I-I may never be _me_ again.” Merlin, but she was actually starting to cry, wasn’t she? “How could I- How could _you_ want… Want me like… Like I _really_ am?”

“Hermio-” He took a hesitant step towards her again, but she backed away with a shake of her head, feeling her heart break with that action.

“I have to go… I’m sorry, Severus.”

She turned away from him then and made towards the door, having every intent of rushing back to her rooms and burying herself under the covers and never, ever coming back out.

But a warm hand with calloused fingers and palm reached out and wrapped around her wrist, halting her movements.

Hermione looked back at him over her shoulder, tears still in her eyes and a few even daring to run down her cheeks, watching as he stepped closer until he was pressed up against her, so close and so warm that Hermione couldn’t help but lean into him, forcing her eyes to stay open despite the urge to let them close in enjoyment.

“If you really want to go, Hermione Granger, say the words now, and I will let you go, but I would like to answer the questions you just put forth first.”

**_He… He_ what?! __**__

_For such a brilliant woman, Hermione Granger, you are an absolute idiot sometimes.  
What Isadora said._

Hermione blinked up at Severus at that, feeling her mouth go dry, but she nodded all the same, giving him that small encouragement to continue.

“...do you really want to go?”

She gave a subtle shake of her head then, and maybe it was her imagination, but Severus seemed to be focusing more on _her_ eye, clearly speaking to her and her alone.

“You are a _brilliant_ woman, Hermione Granger. Insightful, witty… Logical but you have a heart unlike any I’ve ever encountered. A warrior’s heart to be sure, but full of so much compassion and care, able to look past the veneers to see what’s really within...”

_Merlin, but if I ever find a witch to look at me like **that-!**_ _  
Let her listen, Septima!_

Oh, and he _was_ still speaking in that delicious, low rumble, wasn’t he?

“...I’ve already mentioned that you’re brilliant, and working with you this year has only proven that to me. You used to be just a walking encyclopedia, able to recall facts in an instant but you didn’t _know_ anything, but now… Now you’re figuring out how to make those intuitive leaps for yourself and you’re constantly _learning_. You challenge the status quo, and you challenge _me_ , Hermione Granger.”

“...Severus…?”

“...you see the truth, and you seek to learn more still despite those truths. You’re an intellectual and you’re breathtakingly maddening, but by _Merlin_ do you keep me guessing. Is it _really_ any wonder why… Why a man like _me_ would find himself drawn to a woman like you, then?”

Hermione was at a complete loss for words, lips parted slightly as she gazed up into the inky blackness of his eyes, wishing desperately that she could read minds and had permission to read his.

Because there was one question he hadn’t answered yet, wasn’t there?

“A-And what about… What about the rest?”

It took him a second to figure out what she meant, and Hermione nearly missed the faint scowl that briefly touched his lips, but she didn’t miss the way his hold on her tightened, didn’t miss the way his hand once more lifted to cup her cheek, ensuring that their gazes could remain locked when he did finally answer her.

“The things that I have always found attractive about a woman are not her looks, not… In the traditional sense, at least.”

Hermione could feel herself frowning a bit at that, but he pressed on before she could get the chance to say something.

“It’s the way she laughs, or the way she sticks her tongue out just a hint when she’s concentrating on something particularly difficult. The way she fiddles with whatever is in her hands as she reads, or…” He paused, something almost bashful suddenly surfacing in his features just before he pressed on.

“...or the way the candle light reflects against her curls.”

“...oh…” Hermione breathed, melting a touch further into his hold.

There was more, she knew there was, and maybe she wanted to hear all of it. Maybe she wanted to reciprocate in kind, but he pressed on further still, this time with a bit of guilt clouding his tone.

“...I know I shouldn’t. You were my student still just so very recently… You’re far too young for a bitter old man like me, and I should know better, but… I want to explore this with you all the same, Hermione.”

_So help me, Hermione Granger, if you don’t kiss him, I will repossess control of my body and do it for you! And I don’t even **like** men!_

Hermione didn’t realize she was nodding at what Vector was yelling at her, didn’t realize that her hands had fisted again in the fabric of Severus’ robes anymore than she realized she’d pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes until her nose was brushing against his.

“You’re not an old man, Severus Snape,” She murmured as she looked up at him through her lashes, her lips close enough to his that she could almost feel them brushing together.

His hold on her tightened, ensuring she wasn’t going anywhere - though Hermione knew he’d let her go without hesitation if she asked - and Hermione very intentionally brushed the tip of her nose along the long line of his.

“...you’re a very _good_ man, actually - don’t scoff! - and I… I want to explore this with you as well.”

She pulled back just a hint though, wanting to once more see his eyes as she continued.

“...but I-I want to be back in my own body, if possible, just as a show of respect to Septima if nothing else.”

She could feel his hold loosen on her just a hint as he nodded his understanding, as if preparing for her to step back and away.

“But first-”

Once a Gryffindor-

Hermione pushed closer again, as close as she could get as she slid a hand up his chest and neck and into the back of his hair, holding him steady as she _finally_ pressed her lips to his, both of them inhaling sharply as a tingling sensation spread down and through their bodies, holds tightening as lips parted and they tasted each other for the first time.

_**...oh…**  
Sweet Merlin!  
Good girl._

Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so **warm** , the last time she’d felt blood pumping in her veins like this… Had she _ever_ felt like this before?

The kiss lingered on - staying heated and exploratory but somehow still gentle and languid - until both of them had to pull away, completely breathless, foreheads pressing against one another in an effort to stay close, and Hermione absolutely _revelled_ in the feel of his arms wrapped around her, of being held with such care and tenderness.

His nose bumped against hers again, making her giggle softly, and she pulled back just a hint, just enough that she could once more open her eyes and peer up into his, not caring in the slightest that she probably looked thoroughly kissed just then.

It wasn’t like he didn’t look much the same.

“...I should probably go…” She finally whispered, albeit a bit reluctantly, and she made no immediate move away from his hold.

“You probably should, yes.”

Oh, but his voice had gotten even deeper, and Hermione couldn’t’ve stopped the little shiver that ran down her spine at the sound of that if she’d tried.

He noticed and chuckled, but somehow found the strength to pull away, though his hands still lingered at her elbows, clearly not wanting to let her go entirely just yet.

“I made a promise to Septima…”  
 _...You didn’t, actually, but I appreciate the sentiment._

“I understand. I… Hope sleep finds you tonight, Hermione.”

“And I hope pleasant dreams come to you, Severus.”

There was a faint hint of a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as Severus heard her reply, his hands squeezing her elbows for good measure before he finally let them go to slide his hands down her arms to hold her own for a moment, giving them a squeeze just before he lifted them both to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“I am quite sure they will be.”

Her hands tightened in his just a fraction at the implication behind those words, but she didn’t back away from them, instead pushing forward and turning their hands over so she could press a kiss to the back of each of his hands.

“Until tomorrow, then?”

“Good night, Hermione.”

She bid him good night one final time before finally stepping away, giving him a last lingering look over her shoulder before she crossed the barrier between his private rooms and into his office, letting out an elated breath just before she stepped out of his office and back into the main common area.

Where the least person she could’ve expected to be sitting there was, well… Sitting there… next to Ginny Weasley looking absolutely forlorn and lost.

“It’s alright, Viktor,” Ginny was saying, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hermione will wake up before you know it, I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really didn't think it was going to be _that_ easy, did you?
> 
> Come yell at me. I know you want to ;)


	32. Chapter 31: A Conundrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has to deal with Viktor, and then she has to deal with Severus...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew y'all would like the last chapter! Hopefully you'll enjoy this one as much!

The euphoric feeling Hermione had been riding came crashing down around her as she took in the sight before her, her grin faltering as her heart started to hammer in her chest and guilt rose quickly to the forefront.

She could hear Septima asking questions just as clearly as she could hear Isadora answering them, but she ignored them both as she took a hesitant step closer to Ginny and Viktor, her heart breaking a bit as she took in the expression in Viktor’s dark eyes.

Ginny must’ve noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, as she suddenly turned her head a bit to look at Hermione, straightening up a bit in her seat before returning her attention to Viktor and giving his arm another squeeze.

“Viktor, there’s um… There’s someone I think you should meet.”

_**What?! No! No no no no no no no…!** _

But it was too late for her to protest, as Viktor was already getting to his feet at Ginny’s beckoning, coming closer and Hermione did her best to school her features.

_...Hermione, darling-_ Vector suddenly piped up as she took a good look at Viktor for the first time. _-I think you have a bit of a **type.**_

“Viktor, this is Septima Vector. She’s the Arithmancy professor here at Hogwarts. She and Hermione were… quite close.”

Viktor gave Hermione a small bow, his hands staying carefully folded behind his back, and Hermione dipped her head in reply as she clasped her hands in front of her in an effort to keep from fidgeting too much.

“Hermione spoke of you in her letters to me,” Viktor murmured. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Professor Vector.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘professor’, Viktor,” Hermione replied. “Vector is just fine.”

Viktor gave a nod at that before turning towards Ginny and asking if he could have a moment to speak in private with Vector.

Hermione swallowed hard at that, her hands tightening their grip on each other when Ginny agreed, giving his arm another squeeze before turning and heading towards Draco’s rooms.

Apparently she was welcome to come and go from there as she pleased now, though Hermione didn’t really get the chance to dwell on that before Viktor was stepping closer and drawing her attention back to him.

“I wanted to have a private word with you, Vector, about my Hermione…”

Hermione was internally cringing at his word usage, wondering just how long it had been since she’d last felt like she _was_ **his** Hermione, but she gave a nod of encouragement, inviting him to take a seat again as she moved to claim one herself.

It was only once they were both seated and facing one another again that Hermione finally spoke. “...what sort of thing did you want to speak about?”

“Hermione was having terrible dreams-” Viktor replied after a long moment, a flash of guilt racing across his features for a moment, though Hermione wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he could be feeling guilty about. “-and I thought that she was having these terrible dreams about me. I think now that, mayhaps, she was dreaming about you?”

Hermione sat up a bit straighter at that, clearly frowning, but it wasn’t like she could exactly disagree with Viktor, could she?

“...you mean the dream about the battlefield, don’t you?”

“She told you of this dream, then?”

Hermione nodded. “She mentioned it, yes. She thought it was more of a vision that the Strain was showing her.”

“You know of her Strain as well, then?”

“I was the original carrier, actually,” She was quick to clarify, a bit surprised that she hadn’t mentioned that to him before. “I’m the one that gave it to her.”

“And what has happened to it while Hermione sleeps?”

“I’ve reclaimed possession of it, actually, so that I can keep studying it.”

“Does it tell you when she will awake again?”

Oh, but that question broke her heart, and Hermione couldn’t begin to hold back the wince at that point, giving a gentle shake of her head as she murmured her reply.

“I’m… Quite sorry, Viktor, but no. It doesn’t.” She heaved a sigh before continuing. “...it actually doesn’t tell us even _if_ she’ll wake again.”

Viktor let out a curse at that - or, at least, Hermione assumed it was a curse; she didn’t know _all_ of the words in Bulgarian, after all - scowling a hint as he turned away from her and closed his eyes.

“I do not want to accept what you are saying, Vector,” He finally replied after a long, quiet moment. “That my Hermione may not be mine any more.”

_You’ve got that right, good sir._ _  
**...really, Tima?** _

“I simply can’t give you the answers that you’re looking for. The numbers don’t seem to work that way…”

“I… Do not understand, but I will try to be respectful. Hermione spoke of your brilliance, and I have no reason to doubt her now.”

Hermione winced again, feeling her guilt rise, but... Something was telling her she shouldn’t feel as guilty as she actually did.

Something that sounded a lot like Isadora, actually.

_He’s hurting now, my child, because the loss is still new. He’ll heal with time, I can assure you, and will realize things about himself much in the same way that you have._

“You seem to be a very good man, Viktor Krum. I’m um… I’m not really surprised that Hermione was drawn to you.”

Viktor gave her a self-deprecating smile at that, shrugging slightly as he looked down to where his hands were carefully folded in his lap.

“...it is what I wanted to be for her, yes. I know that my life with Quidditch is not the life she wants, but because of Quidditch, I believe I could give her the life she deserves.”

_...uh…_

“That’s… Terribly romantic of you. Wanting to take care of her and all…” Hermione commented, though she sort of wished he’d discussed some of this with her before now. “...You love her then?”

“I can think of no other word to encompass what I feel for her,” He admitted, looking sad again as he hung his head a bit, staring down at his hands which were tightly clasped in his lap.

_**You never told me, Viktor. Not once…** _

Hermione wasn’t really sure what to do then, and neither of her companions seemed to be providing any sort of help, either. Normally, she would’ve reached out to touch him, but Vector wouldn’t do that, and honestly she was a bit blown away by his confession.

“I can only assume that she feels the same way about me.”

“I think you sh-”

Her reply was interrupted, however, by the quiet sound of footsteps behind her, and she turned to look over her shoulder, a new and deep pang of guilt flashing across her features as she took in the sight of Severus approaching from his office, the man in question looking more closed off than she’d ever seen him before, and Hermione realized what this situation must’ve looked like for him.

How much had he overheard?

Viktor, likewise, must’ve heard the footsteps and turned towards the sound, but it was something more like relief crossing his features as he took in the familiar face.

“Ah, Professor Snape! It is good to be seeing you again!”

Severus didn’t look pleased at all, and had lifted his arms to cross them over his chest, but he was quick to school his features and hide the scowl that had been trying to form.

“Mister Krum. Welcome back to Hogwarts. How are you… feeling? I’d come to understand you’d been injured prior to the Dark Lord’s attack on the castle?”

**_You deserve better than me, Viktor. I didn’t even remember…_ ** _  
You can’t beat yourself up, Hermione. Not about this…   
**Watch me.** _

“Your Madame Pomfrey was able to heal me, though I think some of the potions were not made by you. I remember during my last visit having to take potions after the final task, and they were much more… _efficient_ than what I took this time.”

“Slughorn is a good potioneer, but he’s… Very by the book.”

“I would very much prefer one of your potions for headaches, sir. Could I be a bother to you and ask for one?”

One of Snape’s eyebrows arched at that. “...I’ll see what I can manage.”

This was the most awkward thing Hermione had ever experienced - including that time back in fourth year when Ron and Harry had quit speaking to one another - and Isadora and Septima seemed to be in agreement with her.

It didn’t help that Viktor really didn’t have any clue, did it? He genuinely thought Severus was being amenable, when Hermione was willing to bet good money that Severus was actually going to brew Viktor something a bit less agreeable, possibly even poisonous.

**_I don’t remember signing up for this…_ ** _  
It won’t always be this awkward, my child, I promise. Keep in mind that Viktor does not know who you really are…_

“I was going to make myself a spot of tea,” Severus quietly announced, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. “...would either of you care to join me?”

Viktor shook his head. “I believe I should be retiring. Ginerva has told me where I could find accomodations for the evening, and I should attempt sleeping, yes? Perhaps I will feel better and more prepared for the meeting in the morning, then…”

Hermione didn’t have a clue what Viktor was referencing, but Snape answered the question before she could even start to ask it.

“Yes, the Headmaster will be here quite early to discuss plans for how we’re to proceed over the next few months.”

Hermione made a face at that, but hid it quickly enough, watching as Viktor got to his feet and made off towards where his rooms must’ve been located, waiting until he’d disappeared up the stairs before she got to her own feet and made her way towards the kitchen into which Severus had disappeared.

He had his back to her - rather unsurprisingly - and was busying himself with getting the kettle ready, and had rather pointedly only gotten out one cup for tea.

“I thought you were going to retire yourself,” He idly commented, his voice low and a bit dark.

“Viktor was talking with Ginny and she introduced us. He’d never met Septima before.”

“And then Miss Weasley left you alone so you could comfort him in private.”

It wasn’t a question - more of an accusation - but Hermione answered it anyway.

“He wanted to discuss the Strain with me, actually. Back before I knew what was going to happen, I thought that perhaps the person I was screaming for in the field might’ve been him, and he was curious if it was the sort of thing I would’ve discussed with Septima.”

“And?”

“And... He’s realized - all on his own, mind - that it was actually Vector, and he was curious if she had any further insights.”

“Smart boy. You make a good match.”

She wilted a bit at that, reaching out to try and touch him. “Severus, please don-”

He whirled around to face her then, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at her and Hermione suddenly felt like a tiny first year again as she took in the hurt in his eyes, immediately withdrawing her hand and curling in on herself some as she shrank from that look.

“I’m not the sort of man to be toyed with, Miss Granger. I _meant_ what I said to you earlier, but if you aren’t serious about the matter you would be wise to tell me now before any further harm is caused.”

The use of her surname was like a slap in the face, and Hermione desperately wanted to cry - could even feel the tears stinging her eyes again - but she held her head high as she put her hands back down at her sides and met Severus’ gaze.

“Do you _honestly_ think, Severus Snape, that I’m the sort of woman who would kiss a man whilst being in love with another? Especially after having just proclaimed that I didn’t understand how the man I was about to kiss could even _want_ someone like me? You may not be the sort of man to be toyed with, but I’m not the sort of woman who toys, either.”

She straightened up further at that, tilting her chin up in defiance even as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I stand by my actions this evening, _Professor_. I kissed you because I _desperately_ wanted to, and I didn’t have a thought in the world for anyone else. I know the path my heart has settled on, and it’s _not_ with him.”

He looked a bit flabbergasted at that, and was opening his mouth to speak again - perhaps to even make an apology - but Hermione held her hand up, stopping his words before he could utter them.

“Good night, _sir_. I’ll see you in the morning at Dumbledore’s meeting.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away to her rooms, waiting until she was completely out of sight before she let her tears start to properly fall.

She was sure she just imagined it when she heard the sound of china breaking a moment later.

*

Hermione slept fitfully that night, and it didn’t help that both Septima and Isadora were trying to comfort her, to reassure her that everything was going to work out just fine.

Isadora even tried providing Hermione with a couple of dreams to ease her heart, but it wasn’t of much use. Plus, it was made a bit awkward by Septima being able to witness the dreams as well, and when Hermione awoke she just felt _weird_.

Both of her companions tried to engage her as she went about her morning ablutions, but she wasn’t really in the mood to engage back, instead remaining quiet and aloof as she brushed her teeth and got dressed, twisting her hair up into a knot at the back of her head that Septima was able to aid her with before making her way out into the common room to face the day ahead.

Unfortunately, any hope she might’ve had for grabbing something to eat in peace was dashed the moment she stepped out, as literally the entirety of the Order was present and already mostly-seated around the table.

And, of course, the only seats still available were on either side of Dumbledore, or seated directly between Severus and Lupin.

Mumbling something under her breath about remembering her Gryffindor background, Hermione made the march over to take the seat between Severus and Lupin, giving a smile to the latter while steadfastly ignoring the other as she poured herself a cup of tea, giving another smile to Molly when the elder witch handed over a plate with a scone on it.

Severus cleared his throat, and leaned slightly closer to her, and was about to open his mouth to speak when Dumbledore got to his feet and immediately got everyone’s attention.

Hermione was still steadfastly ignoring Severus, her eyes fully on Dumbledore as he began to speak.

Surprisingly, he didn’t speak for very long - he was mostly just thanking everyone for being there and for their continued support and understanding in these trying times, blah blah blah.

Hermione tuned out fairly quickly, and was doing her best to keep from leaning back a bit. Severus was technically behind her as they faced Dumbledore, and even from where she was sitting, she could feel his warmth as a wonderful temptation.

But she needed to be strong. She hadn’t done anything wrong the previous evening, and she was going to stand by that.

The conversation soon turned in a different direction, with plans starting to form and discussions began to crop up surrounding the mysterious Strain that Vector had so-recently come back into possession of. 

“Septima-” Dumbledore turned to face her, pulling Hermione from the conversation she’d been having with Lupin and Tonks about them all remaining hidden for the foreseeable future. “-have you managed to interpret any more of the Strain?”

She gave a small, hesitant nod at that before answering. “I’ve confirmed that the final battle _will_ be happening on the Solstice as Hermione had originally interpreted. All applicable players are present and accounted for.”

“So, Harry will be here?” Lupin asked, and nearly everyone seated around the table looked a bit more hopeful at that.

“But how does Potter _get_ here?” Draco asked from his seat between Molly and Ginny. “The Dark Lord has the castle completely surrounded, and Hogsmeade is warded against intruders. Potter wouldn’t know that he could simply Apparate here, would he?”

“There is a way,” Came a quiet, thoughtful voice from the far side of the table, and all eyes turned to look at Viktor, who was suddenly sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

“Mister Krum?” Dumbledore encouraged, giving Viktor a nod of his head to continue.

“You all have not questioned why I am here, and yet here I am. I had thought you all knew about the Network, and yet this conversation makes me believe that that is not so.”

“The network?” Lupin asked.

“Yes. There is a weekly Quidditch program over the Wizarding Wireless Network in which coded messages are transmitted. It is how I knew He had come to attack Hogwarts and why I came as I did”

“Why isn’t this something we already knew about?” Lupin asked, this time turning towards Dumbledore to ask the question, since the Headmaster of all people should’ve known about it.

“I must admit that I, too, was not aware of this Network, but then again, I have never been a great follower of Quidditch.”

“But Ron is,” Ginny suddenly piped up, looking a bit gleeful. “I know which program you’re talking about, Viktor, and Ron used to listen to it all the time. I bet if he has a radio, he still is, but maybe isn’t aware of the messages.”

“That’s something we might be able to use then,” Severus murmured, and Hermione really couldn’t help but turn towards him at his remark.

He continued before anyone could ask him to. “Mister Weasley is best suited to bringing Potter back to us. Potter is known for being a rather rash individual, and it would not surprise me if he were to ignore any suggestions he heard and were to run headfirst into any danger on a whim of ‘noble causality.’”

“Now, Severus-” Dumbledore was trying to interject, but there were more than a few agreements from those seated around the table.

“Severus is right-” Lupin countered. “Harry hasn’t been the same since Sirius died, and I think anyone who knew him before then would say the same thing. Ron Weasley is a good grounding force for Harry, and I think has the potential to be a key to this fight.”

“You remember the game of chess he played during his first year, Albus,” McGonagall suddenly spoke up, having been silent up until that moment for the entirety of this meeting. “Even you were impressed by his foresight and tactical abilities.”

Dumbledore bowed his head at Minerva’s words. She was right - they all were - and he had no choice but to accept it.

“Very well,” Dumbledore finally relented. “We will see about making contacts and connections and putting out the call to Harry and Mister Weasley.”

“I have the connections you are looking for,” Viktor spoke up, and Hermione wondered just how all of this had been kept from her before now. With everything that had been happening, why hadn’t he shared any of this with her?

Her concerns over Ron and Harry at Christmas… He could’ve told her about this then, and she could’ve brought them home sooner…

_That was not his job then, Hermione._  
 **What** **was _his job, then?_** _  
To give you an example by which to compare the man you are **meant** to be with._

“If you would like-” The man in question rumbled from Hermione’s side, pulling her back from her thoughts. “-I can work with you on constructing a message for them.”

His suggestion caught Hermione off-guard, and she wondered if perhaps their argument the night before had led to it. He’d misjudged her, and perhaps was trying to rectify the error.

It wasn’t a proper apology, though, and until she received one, Hermione was going to continue to ignore him.

Viktor thanked Severus for the offer, and accepted it shortly thereafter, and it wasn’t long before the meeting was drawing to a close since something of a more-concrete plan had been formed.

Slowly, people began to disperse, and Hermione found herself standing alone with Lupin as Severus was speaking with Viktor, and Tonks had wandered off towards the kitchens to find something to eat.

“The two of you fought, didn’t you?” Lupin quietly murmured, giving the faintest of nods towards Severus’ back, and Hermione flushed as she jutted her chin out a bit.

“Not that it’s any of your concern-” She replied, her own voice quiet, and maybe a little bit hurt. “-but yes, we did. How did you even know?”

“He’s a proud man,” Lupin offered. “Always has been, likely always will be. But he smells a touch defeated today, and you’re putting off your own displeased scent.”

“I won’t lie, Remus-” Hermione frowned a touch. “-it’s a little creepy that you can tell that.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.” He was quick to mention, his tone reassuring, and somewhat comforting, if she were being honest. “But, as I said, Severus is a proud man. He doesn’t back down easily when he thinks he’s been slighted in some way.”

“What if he wasn’t the one that was actually slighted?”

“If the way he protected you yesterday was any indication-” Lupin chuckled, reminding Hermione of their conversation in the kitchen when he learned of her truth. “-I’d say you just need to give him a chance to apologize. He’ll come around.”

She sighed, but gave a nod of her head. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I’m sure there are those around us who would be… Perhaps a bit upset to learn of your budding relationship, but I hate being the pot in a conversation with a kettle.”

“...it’s not as big of a difference with you and Tonks, though.”

“Mentally, I think it’s even less of one between you and Severus. You’re a good match, I think. I wouldn’t have guessed it before, but… I can see it now.”

Hermione still wasn’t sure what to make of that, but ultimately decided it was easier to take the werewolf at his word than to question it. She had enough secrecy in her life, and having someone she could openly talk to was, well… Refreshing.

She felt a pair of eyes on her suddenly, and immediately tensed, already bracing herself for the tell-tale sign of cold to flood over her just before her attacker struck.

As she looked around the room though, it was to notice Severus quickly looking away from her, and something in her melted a touch with the realization that he’d been the one watching her.

“You should talk to him in private later,” Remus murmured, giving her arm a friendly squeeze. “It’ll do you both good.”

She nodded, giving him a smile just before an icy hand suddenly clapped over her nose and mouth from behind and immediately everything around her went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know I know I know.  
> I'm not sorry, though.  
> Y'all know the drill. Come yell at me. It honestly motivates me to write more :P


	33. Chapter 32: Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus have yet another chat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter makes up for the last one.

When next Hermione came to, it was to find herself floating a few inches above the table in the Avila common room, a group of worried onlookers surrounding her while Madame Pomfrey stood at her head and ran diagnostic spells over her body.

Turning her head, she was quick to lock eyes with Snape whose own eyes widened in relief as he realized she’d awoken.

“Poppy? She’s awake…”

“Good _heavens_ , Septima!” The mediwitch tutted. “Don’t scare us like that again!”

“Is it gone?” Hermione asked, carefully turning her head towards Severus, frowning a bit when she realized that she couldn’t reach out towards him.

“Don’t struggle, dear,” Pomfrey tutted again, not giving Severus the chance to respond. “I’ve got a minor bind on you right now to keep you from hurting yourself.”

“Why?”

“There seems to be some sort of curse afflicting you very similar to the one that afflicted Miss Granger. It’s freezing you from the inside out, and I’m currently trying to keep it from freezing your joints closed completely.”

“...oh…”

Hermione wasn’t surprised when Dumbledore suddenly appeared over Severus’ shoulder anymore than she was surprised by the twinkle in his gaze as he smiled down on her.

She did her best to hide her grimace, but knew she didn’t succeed entirely. At least she could partially blame it on the pain that was still tingling in her system.

Dumbledore mostly just hovered, asking a handful of questions of Pomfrey as she continued to assess Hermione/Vector’s condition, frowning when he thought it was appropriate before wishing her well and then slowly drifting off again.

Hermione had quite a few thoughts about that, most of them rather suspicious in nature, and judging by the faint furrow in Severus’ brow, so did he.

She made a note to try and ask him about it later, forgetting that they were in a bit of a spat.

Well, maybe it was more that she didn’t _want_ to be in a spat anymore… If she wasn’t such a damn Gryffindor sometimes…

She needed to make an apology, didn’t she? Maybe they both did, but… There was a very real conversation the two of them needed to have and soon.

She was about to open her mouth to suggest just that when a sudden small pop sounded from behind them, and Snape turned from her to investigate the sound. She couldn’t turn enough to see who or what it was, but she could hear his low rumble of a voice speaking to someone.

Pomfrey finished shortly thereafter, gently easing Hermione back down until she was lying on the table beneath her, and only once the mediwitch was sure that Hermione was actually there did she release the binds on her body, allowing Hermione to get to her feet.

Well. Sort of…

Thankfully, Lupin and Viktor had been standing relatively nearby, both of them rushing over to help as Hermione’s legs gave out from under her, clearly not wanting to support her weight.

She thanked them both - even if she did feel a bit uncomfortable having Viktor suddenly standing so close to her, and wasn’t all that surprised when McGonagall came closer herself, confirming something with Pomfrey before she gave Hermione a look.

“You’ll be needing a cane, then.”

Hermione didn’t even have a chance to protest before McGonagall had pulled one of the hairpins out of her bun and gave it a tap with her wand, the pin instantly growing and taking form as a solid walking cane.

“Thank you…”

“Don’t mention it, though…” McGonagall came close enough to rest a hand on the other witch’s shoulder, giving it a gentle and affectionate squeeze. “...once you’re feeling better, Septima, I would like that hairpin back.”

“Y-Yes, of… Of course.”

Carefully, she tried getting to her feet again, using the cane as a prop, and while she had a feeling it was going to take some getting used to, she _was_ feeling a bit more sure on her feet already.

Plus, now that she was on her feet again, Hermione was able to see just who Severus was talking to.

Kipsy. The house elf from the kitchens who’d wanted to speak with him. Perhaps about her attack the previous day? She was too far away still to hear what they were saying, and she didn’t really feel like moving closer.

Besides, if she snooped, she might hear something she wasn’t meant to. Something she wouldn’t like, and where would that get her in the long run?

Furthermore, she and Severus were going to have to learn to trust one another if they were going to actually make things work. Last night had been a good example of that, and Hermione wasn’t exactly keen on making things worse by eavesdropping in on his private conversations.

So, instead, she carefully made her way towards the kitchens, intent on making herself a spot of tea, but found the kitchen already occupied by one Molly Weasley.

“Oh, good! You’re up, Septima! You did give us quite a fright back there!”

“Yes, I’m rather sorry about that,” Hermione murmured as she propped herself against the counter, giving Molly a grateful smile when the other witch handed her a steaming cuppa.

“Oh, don’t worry about it dear. Poppy and Severus explained it to us. Said that our poor Hermione was dealing with the same thing. It’s all very curious, isn’t it?”

_**You have no bloody idea, Mrs. Weasley…** _

Hermione was once again interrupted from answering by the arrival of none other than Severus himself, who paused for a moment at the sight of her before making his way over towards the kettle, though Molly was quick to shoo him away.

“If you _honestly_ believe that I don’t know how to make you a cuppa after all of these years, Severus Snape-”

“Honestly, Molly there’s no need t-”

“Go have a seat. There’s fresh biscuits. I made those ginger and orange ones you like.”

Severus was scowling, but… He did as Molly requested, going to take a seat at the small kitchen table, though he was quick to murmur his thanks when Molly put a cup of steaming tea down in front of him.

“I have some things to chat with my husband about, but you two enjoy the biscuits, yes?”

And just like that, Severus and Hermione were alone.

There was a lot Hermione wanted to say, but she found that she didn’t really know how or where to start, and she instead clutched her tea tighter before carefully making her way over to take a seat across from him at the table, propping her cane up against the table so it would be out of the way for the time being.

“...why are you using a cane?”

“My legs gave out when I tried to stand a little bit ago. Probably another side effect of the curse, I’d imagine.”

Severus winced at that, murmuring an apology as he watched her settle into her chair, though he was likely quick to notice that she really couldn’t find a comfortable seated position.

“...is there anything I can do to help?”

_Come closer and warm us up? Waggle my eyebrows, Hermione! I’ve got loads of innuendo you can use!_

Hermione was able to keep a straight face despite Septima’s running commentary, but only just barely, giving Severus a faint shake of her head before she settled on a proper reply.

“I’d like, later perhaps, to have a proper conversation with you. About things… Like last night a-and earlier today, maybe?”

He gave a nod, and was in the process of replying when Molly bustled back in with Arthur right behind her, the two of them chattering away about something.

Severus got to his feet with a sigh, taking the interruption as some sort of sign, and Hermione watched as he straightened himself out and put up his usual defenses.

“Tonight… At seven, perhaps?” He quietly suggested, arching an eyebrow as he locked gazes with her. “Same place as before?”

Hermione took a second longer than she’d meant to to realize he was speaking about his private chambers, and even though she blushed just a hint, she was nodding all the same.

“I’ll see you there and then, then…”

He gave a single nod to confirm he’d heard what she’d said before leaving the kitchen again, leaving her alone with Arthur and Molly, though Ginny and Draco joined them soon enough.

Who were, curiously enough, holding hands.

Hermione wasn’t surprised, but it sort of killed her for a moment that she couldn’t pull her friend to the side and ask about all of the juicy details.

Instead, she took her own leave, hobbling back out towards the common room with her tea cup carefully clutched in hand, her cane tight in the other as she made her way towards her room.

Thankfully, she’d been through enough, it seemed, and was left well enough alone by everyone.

It wouldn’t be until sometime after dinner that she emerged again, peeking around the corner and letting out a relieved sigh when she noticed that the common room was empty, and thus no one saw her make the journey towards Severus’ office.

She’d spent some time in her rooms earlier practicing with her cane, and while she _was_ arguably more stable with it, the practicing had left her a bit tired and her legs were ready for another sit again.

While Hermione knew she might’ve been a few minutes early, she hoped that Severus wouldn’t mind, and she reached out to gently rap her knuckles against the wood of his office door, giving him a gentle smile when he swung the door open a moment later.

“Hermione…” He murmured, his voice a low murmur, and there was something like _relief_ in his eyes when he saw her.

“...hello.”

He swung the door open further to invite her in, and no sooner had the door closed back behind her again did he turn towards her and take a gentle grip of her upper arms, shifting until he was at eye level with her while he looked her over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, a bit sore… The cold is getting worse.”

“You _feel_ chilled,” He agreed, moving just a hint closer to her, and Hermione had a hard time keeping her eyes from fluttering shut at the feel of his warmth starting to seep into her again, though her hands did come up to rest against his chest as she peered up into his eyes.

But it was as though they both realized themselves at the same time, pulling back almost hesitantly, and Hermione sought out her cane again to grip it since he was no longer her balance.

Snape looked almost bashful as he lifted his arms to cross them over his chest, clearly curling in on himself a bit as he invited her to join him in his living quarters.

“I took the liberty of sending a note for food for us. I… Hope I was not remiss in my actions?”

Hermione gave a gentle shake of her head. “No, I… I haven’t really eaten since lunch earlier. Dinner sounds good.”

It wasn’t as fancy of an affair as the previous evening’s meal had been - just some soup and sandwiches - but it touched Hermione rather deeply that Severus had remembered her preferences for both, and she had to admit that there was a satisfying warmth that spread through her with each gentle slurp of her soup.

Maybe it tasted a touch strange on Septima’s tongue, but it was genuinely the thought that counted in this instance.

They were largely silent as they ate, though, occasionally stealing glances at one another, and Hermione knew that they needed to end the silence soon before the awkwardness completely overwhelmed them.

Still, neither of them spoke until the last of their meals were finished - or, largely finished in Hermione’s case, as she couldn’t quite finish the last of her sandwich - and even then, it took them both a moment to seem to work up the courage to do so.

“Hermione, I wanted to apo-”  
“About yesterday, Sever-”  
“You go ah-”  
“No, you… Oh.”

Hermione let out a soft giggle while Severus chuckled in kind, both of them finally looking up from whatever point at the table they’d been staring at and locking gazes.

“Please, Hermione… Ladies first.”

“I just… I wanted to talk with you about last night… I-I feel like I could’ve handled things better than I did, and I’m sorry.”

“It is I that should be seeking your forgiveness, Hermione,” Severus retorted with a shake of his head. “I had… No right to act the way I did.”

“I wouldn’t say _no_ right…” Hermione countered, the corners of her lips tugging upwards just a hint. “...you know that Viktor and I have a history together.”

“Yes, but, he doesn’t know who you _really_ are right now, does he?”

“But what’s to stop me from telling him? Or seeking him out as I am and just… Pursuing him?”

She heard something of a spluttering huff come from Septima at the very suggestion, but Hermione ignored it, pushing forward with Severus before she lost her nerve.

“...I’m not saying I actually _would_ do anything of those things, Severus. For the record. But I-I feel like maybe that’s what you’re thinking?”

He sighed at that before giving a faint, nearly imperceptible nod of his head. “...I know I shouldn’t feel that way, bu-”

“Who says you can’t?” Hermione asked, pushing him just a bit. “This is all so very, very new, Severus. And we haven’t really _discussed_ what we want out of this, have we?”

Severus leaned back in his seat a bit at that, looking her over as he contemplated her question.

“No, I… suppose we have not.”

“Perhaps we should, then? If you’d like?”

He was quiet again for a moment before he gave another small nod of his head. “I think I would like that very much, actually.”

Another moment found him getting to his feet, though, and Hermione was confused as she watched him come around to her side of the table and hold his hand out towards her.

Confused, at least, until he spoke again.

“Shall we continue this discussion over by the fire, then? I can conjure you a blanket as well, if you’d like?”

_**...oh…**   
This man is going to be the death of me, isn’t he? _

Hermione nodded, placing her hand in his when he offered it to help her up, her arm weaving through his as he led her over to the couch by the fire, and he was quick to help her get situated before conjuring the promised-for blanket, though he let her arrange it how she wanted for herself as he took a seat next to her.

Hermione had opted to drape the blanket around her shoulders with the ends coming down to sort of bunch up in her lap, and while it was tempting to tuck her hands away in the folds, she found it was far more tempting to reach out and take his hands in hers, a move he didn’t seem to object to in the slightest.

If anything, he shifted his hands so he could hold hers a bit more comfortably, his long fingers briefly grazing against the pulse point in her wrists before they settled, and Hermione had to fight back a shudder at the gooseflesh the touch raised in its wake.

“...where should we begin?”

Hermione wasn’t sure, and was chewing rather thoughtfully on her lower lip as she contemplated the question, unaware of Severus’ eyes watching the flash of her teeth against the darker flesh.

“Maybe with what we’re expecting out of this? Where we’d like to go from where we are?” She gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders at that. “...I-I know we’re just starting out, but, I think it’s good to be honest from the get-go, you know?”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “...I should think it’s becoming fairly clear what I want.”

“I’d still like to hear it,” Hermione countered, giving him a gentle smile.

“I don’t want to be in competition with Krum, for starters.”

Her smile faltered, her look turning sad, but she didn’t object. How could she? She’d told him herself that maybe she was in love with Viktor.

But that had been so very long ago, hadn’t it? And things were terribly, beautifully different now, weren’t they?

“You’re not in competition with him, Severus. The two of you aren’t even running the same race.”

Severus’ eyes had fallen to their joined hands as he’d spoken, but they lifted again to meet hers at her response, seeing the reassurances in her gaze there for himself, and he seemed to relax a touch at hearing and seeing them.

“I’m glad to hear that, though perhaps also a touch surprised.”

“Why surprised?”

His gaze dropped to their hands again, and Hermione found herself shifting a touch closer in an effort to get him to look at her again.

She didn’t exactly succeed.

“...Krum seems like a good man, and the kind of man that could give you a rather good life. What can I offer you?”

“Severus…”

“No, I mean it Hermione. What can I offer you?” He finally looked up at her again, looking terribly sad, and it broke Hermione’s heart to see it. “I’m a school teacher… He’s got money and class an-”

Before he could go on, Hermione tugged one of her hands out of his and gently clapped it over his mouth, effectively silencing him, though it was more of a stunned silence than anything else.

“-and you’ve got brains, and can keep me on my toes. I’ll never get bored of talking with you, or even just listening to you speak.”

Severus seemed to be trying to scowl, but without his mouth visible, it just looked like he was pouting instead.

“Viktor is a good man. I’ll agree with you on that, but… He wants to give me a life that I don’t think I want. Where’s the chaos and adventure? The _excitement_? Why… Why would I want a life of luxury? I’d be bored out of my skull, I think.”

Her hand fell back away again, once more claiming his and she gave it an affectionate squeeze as she leaned towards him a bit.

“Viktor has never told me of the things that he wants - and, to be fair, I’ve never told him either - but if what he was saying yesterday was any indication… He’s not the man for me, Severus.”

Something flashed across those black eyes at her words, and after a moment Severus gave her a long, slow nod of understanding.

“So… What is it that you _do_ want, Hermione?”

“I want a man who isn’t afraid to let me grow or learn… A man who wants to travel and explore and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. A man who maybe revels in chaos as much as I do-” She chuckled “-but also needs things _just so_ in order to function on the norm.”

She paused, giving him a bashful little smile. “...I need an Avilian, Severus. Not a Gryffindor.”

He squeezed her hands back at that, something warming in his eyes as he took all of it in.

As he took all of _her_ in.

“...I don’t know if I deserve you, Hermione-”

“Stop.” She was pressing her fingers against his lips again, though it was a much more tender gesture than it had been previously. “ _I_ decide who does and doesn’t deserve me, Severus Snape.”

“And you’ve decided that I do, then?” He quipped, arching an eyebrow almost-teasingly at her before he pursed his lips and gently kissed the digits that were still against his lips.

“I should think that would be rather obvious at this point,” She giggled, tapping her fingers against his mouth before she withdrew them again. “...but it isn’t just about me, is it? What is it that you want?”

He lifted his free hand to brush his fingers against her cheek, letting his hand slide back to push a stray lock of hair out of the way and tuck it behind her ear.

“...I’m eager to discover what _your_ hair feels like beneath my fingers…”

“... _oh…_ ” Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in a blush, and could hear Septima and Isadora snickering in her head.

“I-It’s quite a handful!” She giggled, feeling profoundly bashful all of a sudden.

“I’m certain it is,” He murmured, his voice deepening a hint, and Hermione realized a moment later the double-meaning behind her words and the hint of something mischievous in his reply.

Maybe that was why she wasn’t entirely surprised when he leaned in a bit - or why she leaned towards him herself - eyes sliding shut as he brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

“As much as I enjoyed our kiss, I must admit-” Her eyes had closed as well, so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but she could certainly _feel_ the way his lips ghosted over her cheek, brushing in a feather-light caress against the corner of her mouth. “-I am _very_ much looking forward to knowing what you _really_ taste like, Hermione Granger.”

_...I’d be offended if we weren’t all so completely turned on right now…_ __  
**...that’s not helpful, Septima.**   
Doesn’t make it any less true.

Hermione felt a shudder run through her, though it had nothing to do with the cold and absolutely everything to do with his words. The feel of his lips grazing along her jaw certainly didn’t hurt either, nor did the feel of his hand gently cradling the back of her head to tilt it back just a hint.

She breathed his name, her own hands sliding up his chest, one of them to gently fist in the material of his clothing, and the other to keep going until it had tangled in the hair at the back of his neck.

And that was how Hermione Granger discovered that Severus Snape did not, in fact, have greasy hair. Not even a little. Not even close.

His free arm wrapped around her suddenly, pulling her in closer as he lips turned down, grazing just along the pulse point pounding in her neck, and Hermione had to bite back a small moan at the sensation.

“...are you as sensitive, Hermione?” He breathed, his teeth ghosting against her skin. “If you were in your body, would you be trembling as much as you are right now?”

“I-I don’t think it has anything to do with the body itself, Severus.”

“No?”

She whimpered as she felt him press a kiss to the space just above the collar of her dress where the skin was a bit more sensitive, her hands clenching a bit in encouragement.

“...desire is desire i-is desire…”

“Do you desire me, then, Hermione Granger?”

“I-If I were in my own body-” She replied, tugging gently on his hair to pull him away from her neck so she could lock gazes with him. “-I believe I would be showing you how much by now.”

He let out a low, faint growl at that, leaning towards her again, and Hermione didn’t hesitate to meet him halfway, and - hearing no protest from Septima - parted her lips against his as they met, inhaling sharply as she tasted him again, pressing closer to him than she’d dared to the previous evening.

She’d thought for a split second that it was awkward because they were sitting and their legs were in the way, but Severus surprised her by securing his hold on her and hauling her into his lap, the blanket that had been around her shoulders falling behind her as he wrapped his arms more securely around her.

This time, when she shivered, it was a bit because of the cold, and Severus must’ve noticed since he pulled back to check on her, his cheeks a hint flushed and his lips a bit swollen already from the intensity of the kiss they’d just been engaged in.

“...that _was_ from the cold, wasn’t it?”

She nodded, but leaned forward to kiss him again, this one gentler, more languid. “...told you before: I’m warmer when I’m with you.”

“I wonder why that is.”

She pulled back with a giggle, arching an eyebrow for herself. “You’re really thinking about that _now_?”

“I thought you _liked_ that I was inquisitive by nature?”

“Just thought you’d have other things on your mind right now, is all.”

“I must admit, you do provide a… Rather lovely distraction, but I find it perhaps a touch odd to be engaging in such activities with you when you aren’t _you_.”

“...do you want to stop?”

For the record, I’m good with what you’re doing, just don’t take it further.

“We agreed there were certain lines we weren’t going to cross, didn’t we? Perhaps we should remind ourselves of that before we get carried away, hmmm?”

Hermione sighed but nodded all the same, realizing that he was right, though she made no immediate move to extricate herself from his hold.

Nor did he seem keen on letting her go, either.

“...do you want to discuss the cold, then?”

“I think perhaps we should, yes,” He agreed, shifting forward a bit, though that was just so he could gather the blanket that had fallen from her shoulders and wrap it back around her, his arms once more gently looping around her once he’d gotten her tucked in again.

“Where would you like to start?”

He let out a low hum at her question, taking a moment to contemplate it, seemingly unphased by the fact that she was still settled in his lap.

“I’d be curious to know what causes it.”

_I can answer that._

Hermione must’ve looked startled at Isadora suddenly piping up, because Severus rather suddenly looked concerned.

“What is it?”

“Isadora says she can tell us? But I don’t… I don’t understand?”

_Ask him to use his talents, dear child. I can show you both._

Hermione shook her head, but she relayed the message to Severus. He frowned, but slowly withdrew himself from her just enough to pull his wand from the sheath up his sleeve, pointing it at her and quietly murmuring the spell once they’d locked gazes.

_The world shifted around them, though somehow they were still in Avila, still in that very room, though things had taken on a blue-ish tint, and they were standing by the fireplace, watching a woman - watching Isadora - as she stared into the fire, arms wrapped around herself and shoulders trembling slightly from silent tears._

_“...’Dora…” They heard someone murmur, and turned to watch a man approach the witch, his hands resting on her shoulders as he pressed a kiss to the back of her head._

_Hermione reached out to take Severus by the hand, moving further into his space in fear as she realized that the man standing before them was the same ghostly terror that had been attacking her for months._

_“...I asked you to leave, Ivan. Why are you still here?”_

_“My ‘Dora needs me.”_

_“I’m not your ‘Dora! Stop **calling** me that!”_

_Isadora turned around suddenly, forcing him to withdraw his hands from her shoulders, and she was opening her mouth to say more but the memory changed, moved on to the next._

_Suddenly, Isadora and Ivan were standing over where Severus had his dining table set up, though the two of them seemed to be arguing over a small alchemy table, both of them snarling at one another._

_“I’ve seen the way you look at him!”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“That… That **man**! Gryffindor!”_

_“Godric?” Isadora scoffed. “We’re business associates! That’s all!”_

_“You are **mine** , Isadora! You performed the Vow with me!”_

_Isadora’s scowl deepened. “...and every day I search new ways to possibly break it.”_

_The scene shifted once more, and this time Severus had to take hold of Hermione to stop her from going forward, reminding her that it was a memory and there was nothing she could do anyway._

_Isadora was lying on the floor, a knife in her hand as she stared up at a small blue orb, and Hermione winced when suddenly a tendril shot out from that orb and wrapped itself around Isadora’s wrist._

_Ivan burst in from the door then, letting out a roar of anger as he realized what was happening, but before he could get too far into the room, Isadora had somehow pushed herself to her feet, holding out her still-bleeding palm and wandlessly banishing him from her._

_He hit the wall with a sickening thud, but somehow retained consciousness, and was even laughing at her as he watched her continue to work._

_“You’ll never have me, Ivan. You’ll never have me, or Avila or Hogwarts. You will die, one day, and it will be painful, and you will **burn** for your sins.”_

_“Just you wait, poppet,” He chuckled through blood-stained teeth. “Just you wait. I will take what is mine with all the cold fury I possess. Nothing is going to stop me.”_

_“She will. I’ve forseen it. She will burn you when you think you are at your closest, because she will have Love on he-”_

_“Your little brown-eyed witch?” He scoffed, the words quickly turning to a cough as he tried to fight against the blood most likely starting to fill his lungs. “I’ll eat her alive, too, poppet. The_ Aíma Págou… _No one besides the two of us even know of its existence. How will she stop me?”_

_“Like this,” Isadora replied, a faint chuckle present in her voice as she once more held up her bleeding hand, showing off the way the Strain was dancing and turning about her, taking in her life force just as surely as it gave her its own, and it was almost comical to watch Ivan as he realized what was unfolding before him._

_“I shall live forever, Ivan. And you… You most certainly will not.”_

The memory began to fade away, leaving Hermione and Severus once more curled around one another on the couch in his living quarters, both of them somewhat flushed and panting from what they’d just witnessed.

But, it was a clue, wasn’t it? And a big one.

“I don’t know why she didn’t share it sooner-” Hermione rasped, wondering why her voice was a bit huskier than usual. “-but I think we can work with this.”

“I think she’ll reveal her reasoning soon enough, but-” He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, giving her a surprisingly affectionate look. “-Yes. I think we can start with this.”

_I shall explain in due time, my darling child. But, for now… Thank you for continuing to have faith in me._

Hermione didn’t know how she could have anything else at this point.

Had Isadora steered her wrong yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANSWERS! CONVERSATIONS! SMOOCHING!
> 
> And! Not a cliffhanger~
> 
> I'll still let you yell at me if you want to though :P


	34. Chapter 33: Dreams and Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets new answers, and the Order gets something for themselves, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad y'all liked the last chapter! Your comments give me life ;)

It took Hermione a tad longer than she would’ve liked to drift off to sleep that night, due in no small part to her replaying her kiss with Severus over and over and _over_ again in her head.

When she did finally succumb, however, she found herself plopped back down inside another dream that Isadora had decided to share with her.

Looking around her, she watched as Septima materialized next to her, the two of them taking in their surroundings before Isadora approached them.

“I have much still to show you, and I thought it might be easier to do so through means such as these.”

“You don’t want to do it while Hermione stares longingly into Severus’ eyes, again, then?” Septima teased from Hermione’s side, the younger witch giving a roll of her eyes in response, though there was a faint grin twitching at the corners of her lips.

“She can recall the information for him later. For now, I would just like to show the two of you so you can… More fully process it, I suppose.”

“..what is it that you’re going to show us, Isadora?” Hermione carefully asked.

“I would like to show you how we discovered the _Aíma Págou_ and what it could possibly mean for you, my child. It is, well… It will be easier to show you, I suppose.”

Before anything else could be said on the matter, Isadora had closed her eyes to concentrate, and soon enough the trio found themselves once more standing in Isadora’s old private quarters, the same quarters that now belonged to Severus.

Isadora and Ivan were reading by the fire with bits of parchment floating around them both while quills scratched away whenever either of them broke the silence and spoke.

They were researching - that much was clear enough - and every once in a while they would turn their books to one another and share a passage they thought intriguing and would make another comment to be added to their notes.

 _“Ivan was training to be a healer,”_ Isadora’s voice swam through their heads suddenly. _“What you now call the Unforgivable Curses were just mere curses still in our day. Dangerous, yes, but they were not punished in the legal system the way they are now._

 _Ivan was studying them.”_ The voice continued after a long moment, sounding both wistful and melancholy. _“He was studying to see if any of them could be of any use to healers.”_

Septima and Hermione watched as the scene shifted, as several scenes went by in rapid succession, and it was clear that Ivan was growing more and more frustrated with each memory that was revealed to them.

“I just don’t understand!” He was lamenting, hands in his hair as he paced back and forth in front of the fire, Isadora sitting in a nearby chair looking remorseful. “Everything I’ve tried, i-i-it just… It just makes things _worse_!”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Isadora murmured, rising to her feet and crossing the short distance between them to put a hand on his shoulder.

He immediately recoiled from the touch, violently enough that Isadora took a step back, looking as if she’d been struck despite Ivan having not lifted a hand to her at all.

The scene changed again, and this time, Septima and Hermione both recoiled in shock at what they were seeing.

 _“I’d asked him to do it…”_ Isadora’s voice floated through them again. _“He thought he’d found something that might be of use in counteracting the effects of the Cruciatus, but he had to find someone to test them on. I… volunteered. But you can’t test a cure on a patient who hasn’t been afflicted with the curse, can you?”_

Isadora was writhing about in pain on the floor, her body arching and contorting in strange and terrible ways that made Hermione feel sick to her stomach to see, and she had to turn her head away to avoid watching for any longer.

But then, the screaming died away, leaving behind a horrible sound of gasping in its wake, and slowly Hermione turned around again to see what Isadora had been so keen on showing them.

It was Ivan, bent over Isadora’s prone body, holding his wand over her as he whispered the two words that Hermione had become achingly familiar with.

“Aíma Págou…” He quietly muttered, a strange sort of bluish light immediately flowing from his wand to cover Isadora's prone body, and - as if nothing had ever been the matter with her at all - Isadora’s body completely relaxed and her color returned to something more-closely resembling normal.

Ivan helped her to her feet and the two of them embraced before heading over to where a bottle of wine and two glasses had been set out for them in case of success.

Their joy was short lived, however, and no sooner had Isadora raised her glass to her lips than it went crashing to the floor as a terrible seizure once more took hold of her, and Ivan was barely able to catch her before she hit the floor herself.

_”The spell worked, but its effects were limited. The Cruciatus was too powerful and no matter how hard we tried - and we did make several more attempts - the results were still the same.”_

“...what happened?” Septima asked, somehow finding the words that Hermione couldn’t pull from her throat just yet.

Maybe it was because her heart was stuck there instead.

_“Ivan became increasingly more and more fanatical, intent on finding **something** that his spell would work on, and I - in turn - increasingly became the subject of his testings despite no longer giving consent. He… Did eventually find some sort of validation when he counteracted a blood-boiling hex with his spell, but he nearly killed me in the process.”_

“Why did you stay with him?” Hermione somehow managed to ask.

 _“We were bonded,”_ Isadora replied as if it was the most obvious answer she could’ve supplied.

Septima looked horrified at the explanation, while it just left Hermione feeling even more confused than before.

“I-I don’t understand…” Hermione finally muttered, looking at Septima and then the figure of Isadora as the room around them dematerialized and the witch in question reappeared.

“It is an old custom, one you likely would not be familiar with, it’s true.”

“It’s barbaric-” Septima countered. “-is what it is. Forces two magical beings together and even death won’t make them part.”

“...that just sounds like a marriage?” Hermione supplied, still not sure exactly what it was she was missing.

“It’s more than that-” Isadora clarified, holding up her hand to stop Septima from launching herself into a full-on rant. “It’s… It requires the utmost faith in your partner because it quite literally bonds your soul to theirs, and it is a bond that can never be broken. As Septima said, it holds even past death. I went into the bond willingly. I assure you I wasn’t forced into it.”

“So, that’s how Ivan is still here now?” Hermione’s eyes had gone wide with the realization, and she didn’t understand why Isadora was shaking her head at her.

“No, Hermione. You see, I counteracted the bond when I bled myself into the Strain.”

“But maybe not entirely,” Hermione countered back. “If Ivan was truly mortal, and you truly broke the bond, there’s _no way_ he could be here now, is there? No way he could be plaguing me with the _Aíma Págou_ or any other sort of violence he might have planned for me.”

“She’s right, Isadora,” Septima agreed. “Whatever you did, it got you close to your goal, but not quite there.”

Isadora looked defeated, as if she was finally admitting a truth to herself that she had been fighting against for a very long time.

Hundreds of years, in fact.

“...until he attacked Hermione in the Library that day, I thought I _had_ succeeded. I hadn’t seen anything of him since the night I bled myself into the Strain. And even then I-I thought that somehow, perhaps, I still had, that maybe something else was happening…”

“You can’t blame yourself, Isadora,” Hermione cooed, stepping forward and reaching out tentative hands to rest on the witch’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze when she realized the woman was just as solid as she was. “You’ve done so much and you tried so hard. Maybe there’s still a way to break it, yeah? To end it all once and more all?”

“I’m with Hermione,” Septima murmured from where she’d come to stand next to the two witches. “You took the big steps. Now let us help you take the rest of them, yeah?”

Isadora nodded, and the three of them moved into a warm hug, foreheads pressed together in a sort of intimate way that they knew only the three of them shared.

It would be a long few minutes before the embrace ended, and only then it was because Isadora pulled back so she could glance between the two women in her hold, her eyes finally settling on Septima.

“...should we show Hermione what we’ve discovered then?”

Hermione looked confused, but Septima was answering before she could put forth a question.

“I think it’s the least we can do, honestly. She’s been through so much over the last few days, you know…”

Isadora gave a nod, before slowly closing her eyes, and right before Hermione’s eyes, Septima Vector faded entirely from view.

“...I don’t understand.”

“Septima and I believe that we have discovered a way for you to be alone from time to time. Or, at the very least, the two of you to be alone from each other. I must still be present in order to maintain the distance between you, you see.”

“No, I-I don’t. Not at all.”

“We believe we’ve figured out a way to grant you both something of a respite from your current predicaments. I would need to be present to facilitate things, as I have mentioned, but for the next little while, at least, your dreams are entirely your own. Septima will be unable to see them and will have no knowledge of them even after your minds are once more connected.”

“H-How…?!”

“It would take too long to explain, and I would much rather grant you a small gift as a token for your faith in me and for your willingness to help me end my bond with Ivan.”

“What sort of gift?”

Hermione became aware, then, of everything around her starting to shift until it suddenly resembled Severus’ quarters, and - low-and-behold - the man himself was standing by the fire, a glass of a dark amber liquid in his hand as he looked into the fire that was burning away in the hearth.

And just like that, Isadora disappeared as well, leaving Hermione all alone…

Standing there in the middle of his quarters… In her own body…

“...Hermione?”

She’d been in the middle of patting herself down to confirm that it actually _was_ her body, and thus was looking a bit wide-eyed as she lifted her gaze to his, noticing that he was looking at her with a bit of a wide-eyed expression himself.

But there was a certain sort of softness about what she was seeing, and it was difficult for Hermione to know for certain if what she was seeing was a memory - a vision, really - or merely a dream…

But the way Severus was looking at her, the way he put down his glass and then slowly began making his way towards her…

She could only hope it was the former.

“Hermione?” He asked again, and this time she gave a nod to answer, sucking in a ragged breath as she tested out vocal chords that hadn’t been used in months.

“...Severus…”

He was on her in an instant, arms wrapping tight around her body as he lifted her off her feet, his face burying into the side of her neck as he took a deep breath of her, clearly relieved that she was there at all, and perhaps it wasn’t just because she was in her own body.

What day was it? What time…? They were still in Avila, but was it before or after the final battle?

She had so many questions, but no idea where to start, and besides… What if all of this _was_ just a dream?

Her arms were around his neck, and she was perfectly content to stay there, to feel him holding her as they breathed each other in - he smelled different now, she noted, and wondered idly if it was something she was making up, or if he really would smell different to her own senses - and by the gods, but when was the last time she’d felt this _warm_?

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” He murmured, his voice a low rumble in her ear.

“Where else would I go?” She replied, turning her head enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “...there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes at that, something curious flashing through those dark, glittering depths, and Hermione was taken aback by the realization of what that very something was.

But she wasn’t given the opportunity to put anymore thought to it when his lips were suddenly on hers, their holds on each other tightening as lips parted, and tongues teased, and _oh_ so **that** was what he really tasted like?

“We don’t have much time,” He pulled back to mutter, his teeth grazing against her lower lip with the action.

“Time enough,” She replied, one of her hands snaking into his hair as her fingernails gently grazed across his scalp. “We’ve got time enough, Severus. And I-I don’t… I don’t want to go into tomorrow not knowing…”

“Not knowing what?” He asked, clearly seeking permission, because she was sure that he wasn’t daft enough to _not_ know what she meant.

“Not knowing what it’s like to _be_ with you.”

“Be with me in what way?” He pressed further.

“Intimately,” She whispered, her lips brushing against his again. “I want to spend the night with you, Severus, and I want to know what it’s like to come completely undone in your arms.”

“And why do you want this?” Pressing further still.

She murmured six words then, putting everything she had into them, and apparently they were enough for him, because no sooner had he heard them then he was hoisting her more securely into his arms and carrying her off to that room she had so long ago realized was his bedroom.

But, despite her previous consentment, despite everything else said between them, as clothes were slowly shed, as skin was revealed and pressed upon and kissed and tasted, as hands found curves and dipped into trousers and felt and circled and entered and teased and guided…

...as kisses deepened and were cut-off by pleas and moans and panting breaths…

...as skin rapidly grew warmer, grew hotter to the point of perspiration…

...as pulses pounded, as bodies clung and moved and thrusted and arched…

...through it all, he still asked if she was sure, and why.

And at the end of it all, as they lay there in each other’s arms, collecting breaths as their heart rates synced… There were six words spoken back to her, and Hermione finally understood what it was she’d been chasing for so long.

Viktor Krum was the stepping stone to get her where she needed to be.

And where she needed to be had fallen asleep beside her, his arms still wrapped around her as she joined him in that blissful slumber.

*

When she awoke the next morning, it was to find the spot in bed beside her terribly, achingly cold, and she raised her head in confusion to look around her before she realized, and she once more sank back into the pillows before further burying herself under her covers.

_That must’ve been one hell of a dream!_ _  
**...it was, actually.**  
Do I want to know?  
I would not share it with you even if Hermione willed it so, which I do not think she does.  
...well then…_

She tried not to think on it too much - mostly she just kept repeating those six words Severus had uttered to her over and over again - before she finally talked herself into getting up and facing the day ahead.

She supposed that she needed to speak to Severus, needed to tell him what Isadora had further shared with her, and Septima was teasing that she just wanted to _see him_.

Which, Hermione reckoned, she did, but she was blushing a bit with the admission, even if it was just admitting it to herself.

But, she knew what was to come now and it was… Good. _Very_ good.

A short while later, after she’d showered and gotten dressed, she headed out towards the common room, fully intent on finding herself a cup of tea and something to eat, and maybe it wasn’t as much of a surprise as it should’ve been to find a few members of the Order standing about and talking.

Avila had, after all, become something of a safe house while also being a war room, and no matter how much Hermione might not’ve liked it, she knew that she really couldn’t fight it anymore.

She saw Severus standing over to one side talking with both Minerva and Lupin, all three of them looking quite serious, and Hermione wished she could find out what they were talking about, but her stomach was quick to remind her that she needed something to eat, so she tightened her grip on her cane and hobbled the rest of the way into the kitchen.

At least it didn’t hurt as much to walk as it had the day before. Small blessing, that.

Thankfully, the kitchen was blissfully empty and Hermione was able to make quick work of making herself a cuppa and grabbing a scone, carefully taking a seat at the table to eat when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

“Good… You’re awake,” Severus rumbled, and Hermione looked up to notice that he was smiling faintly at her.

“Have you been looking for me, then?” She replied, a faint teasing in her voice, and Severus arched an eyebrow before moving out of the doorway and coming to take a seat next to her.

“I have been, actually,” He finally replied, turning in his seat a bit so he could more fully face her. “I have news for yo-”

“Ah! Severus _and_ Septima!” Came Dumbledore’s tranquil voice suddenly from the doorway. “Just the duo I was looking for! Come, come; finish your breakfast, Septima. I am calling the Order to a meeting shortly, and you both need to be there!”

Hermione barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes, internally swearing at the Headmaster’s timing, but at least Severus was there to help her to her feet, holding her steady until she had a good grip on her cane again, and even then he wove her arm through his so she could hold onto him as the two of them headed back out into the common room.

Only Minerva seemed to pay any attention to their closeness, but Hermione didn’t notice the stare the other witch was leveling at them, and thus also missed the little imperceptible shake of the head that Severus gave her when _he_ realized that Minerva was staring.

Dumbledore called the meeting to a start soon enough, and general notes were put forth - apparently Lupin had had a potentially successful meeting with a group of werewolves that were sympathetic with their cause, and Tonks mentioned some of the rumblings in the Ministry with overthrowing the Dark Lord’s control - but most everyone was adamant about hearing with Viktor had been able to work out with his project.

“It is slow going,” He admitted, giving a faint shake of his head. “Getting in touch with my contacts during this time is not as easy as it once was, but I have faith that my raven can get the messages to them. From there, I am afraid there is little we can do but wait.”

“Do we have someone dedicated to listening to the Wireless?” Lupin asked.

“Me,” Ginny piped up from her seat between her father and Draco. “I’ve got a Quick Quotes Quill taking notes all the time as well. That way, in case I’m called away - like now - at least something is still ‘listening in’ and we can check if the message has gone through yet.”

“Very good,” Dumbledore replied, sounding rather pleased with himself, though why that was, Hermione couldn’t exactly say. It wasn’t as though any part of this had been part of _his_ plan, after all.

“Is there anything else anyone else might want or need to share in this meeting?” He asked a moment later, his eyes slowly scanning everyone present for signs of having something to say.

“...I do,” Draco suddenly piped up to the great surprise of everyone but perhaps Severus and Ginny.

“I received a letter from my mother-” He went on after a moment, his eyes falling slightly to study the table in front of him. “-who, as many of you likely can imagine, is currently living in a tent on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch with my father and her sister.”

_**Why doesn’t he say Bellatrix is his aunt, I wonder…?**  
Never liked that woman. She’s got crazy eyes. Always had.  
Narcissa has raised a good boy, though. I think we can all agree on that.  
**He’s grown a lot this year, that’s for sure.**_

“However, my mother… I don’t think she _wants_ to be there,” Draco continued, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat as he turned steely eyes to look around the room, locking gazes with each person for a seconds before moving on to the next.

“In fact, based on her letter, I think my mother would much rather be here with us, and with your support, I’d like to figure out a way to bring her here.”

“And if she’s a spy for You-Know-Who?” Flitwick quietly asked, looking as though he hated to even ask the question, though everyone else knew that someone had to do it.

“Measures can… Be taken,” Severus answered. “To ensure that she is truthful with us about her intentions and also does not sell us to the Dark Lord.”

“What sort of measures, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, though Hermione could tell by the twinkle in the old goat’s eyes that he already knew the answer.

“Veritaserum, for starters,” Severus drawled. “Legilimens is another. If used in combination, well… Even an Occlumens of her strength would be unable to hide deceit from us.”

“And would _you_ be ministering both, then?” Moody piped up from his seat, staring incredulously at Severus for even making such a suggestion.

“You could administer the Veritaserum yourself, if you would prefer-” Severus replied, a faint sneer twisting his lips for a moment, though his face soon returned to its usual stoniness a moment later. “-though unless you have developed a skill set that I am unaware of, Alastor, I don’t believe there is anyone else at this table who is capable enough for such a task as I am.”

“I agree with Severus,” Dumbledore piped up, immediately putting Moody in his place. “Narcissa Malfoy will want to see a friendly face, someone she feels as though she can trust. The godfather of her only child is as good a face as any, I believe. Once the Veritaserum has been administered, however, I see no reason why you cannot be present, Alastor?”

Draco looked as though he were about to protest, but Hermione noticed the way Ginny reached out a hand to rest on his arm, immediately quieting him again.

Severus, however, had no such person holding him back.

“I will not have Moody in the room with me, Headmaster-” He muttered, something dark creeping into his voice, and Hermione had to suppress the shudder that threatened to run down her spine at hearing it. “-as it is exceedingly difficult to read the mind of someone who is under duress. Having _him_ there will no doubt stress Narcissa, and could skew the answers I get.”

“So I should just leave you alone with her then? You bloody snake. You could just force a calming draught down her thro-”

“I’ll stay with them,” Hermione was quick to cut in, sitting up straighter in her chair as she leveled a hard eye at Moody. “If it makes you feel better, Alastor? I can _keep an eye_ on them, as it were?”

It was clear he caught her double meaning by the way he growled at her, but given that no one else seemed to be protesting, he sat back in his chair again and huffed.

“Fine. Do what you will, Vector.”

_**Constant fucking vigilance you ugly old bastard.**  
I bloody love you, Hermione Granger _

Seeing that the matter had been settled, Dumbledore asked for any further business to be addressed and - when none was provided - called the meeting to a close, leaving everyone to get to their feet again and congregate in small groups.

Hermione was particularly surprised when Draco approached her, holding out a hand for a shake.

“Thank you,” He murmured, giving her hand a small squeeze before he released it. “For what you’re doing for my mum. I appreciate it.”

“She deserves better than Mad-Eye Moody breathing down her neck while she tries to help us.”

“She’s also never forgiven him for what he did to me back in my fourth year.”

Hermione frowned at that, realizing what he meant right away, feeling a touch guilty all of a sudden for the way she’d often reacted to that memory over the years.

“I know that wasn’t _him_ , obviously, but the memory… I had nightmares for weeks afterwards about it.”

Merlin, now she just felt even guiltier.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help her feel comfortable, yeah? Trust me.”

“Hermione did,” Draco answered, giving her a small smile. “And, maybe it’s a bit weird, but… I trust _her_. I trust her judgement more than anything else these days, so… I trust you, too, Vector.”

“...thank you, Draco.” Was she crying? Why was her vision a bit blurry all of a sudden?

“Of course.” He gave her a little bow of his head. “I need to go speak to Severus, but thank you again.”

Hermione watched him go, her grip on her cane tightening a bit as she took in a shaky breath, trying to blink away the tears gathering in her eyes when she felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

A quick survey of the room led her directly to the source, and Hermione realized she might be in trouble.

Because Moody was staring at her again, and his magical eye was trained solely on her.

Even knowing that she had two good men on her side didn’t calm her, because she also knew that once Mad Eye Moody had bitten down on something, it was nearly impossible to tear it away from his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, truly, actively tried not to end this chapter on a cliffhanger. I don't think I succeeded (okay, I know I didn't), but hopefully some of the other stuff in this chapter makes up for it?
> 
> You know how to yell at me, at any rate :P


	35. Chapter 34: Narcissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in a very short amount of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this to y'all. Things are... A bit crazy right now.

A handful of days passed with little happening: Voldemort and his troops were still stationed on the Quidditch Pitch, and were making no attempts to try and further their hold on Hogwarts; thus far, the Order had managed to maintain its location relative to Hogwarts a secret; Viktor was still working on sending out his messages to his Wizarding Wireless connections while Ginny listened in to the radio basically every waking hour in the hopes that the message would come through…

Hermione, however, was going a little stir-crazy.

She knew she needed to talk to Severus, needed to figure out a way to protect herself against whatever Moody had planned for her, but there was another part of her that thought, perhaps, she was just being paranoid. After all, it had been a few days since the Order meeting, and he hadn’t done anything rash yet…

But it was the **yet** that she was most worried about. What if he’d figured something out, but leapt to the wrong conclusion about her? Lupin had figured out she wasn’t Septima by her smell alone, after all, so who was to say that Moody hadn’t figured something out by staring at her with that damned eye of his?

She needed to talk to Severus. And fast.

But there were more people about now, more people to see them, and it was sort of difficult to deny that she and Severus had grown rather close.

Far closer than Septima and Severus had ever been, for sure, and given how open Septima seemed to be about her sexuality, their closeness was likely about to come under some sort of speculation.

It was not long after dawn of her sixth day wondering what Moody was going to do that everything sort of started to happen at once.

First and probably most importantly, Ginny heard a message on the Wireless, and came barreling into the Avila common room with Draco hot on her heels as she made quick work of replaying the message for those gathered, having been able to record most of it by doing some quick spellwork and using her Patronus.

There was absolutely no question that Viktor’s raven had gotten the message through, now, was there? Now they simply had to wait and see as to whether or not Ron would actually hear it.

The message was to replay every evening during the Quidditch broadcasts until such a time that Viktor’s contacts heard from him saying it had been received by the intended recipient, and Hermione idly wondered when exactly that would be.

She knew that she wouldn’t see Ron again until the day before the Solstice - she’d even told him as much when he’d stolen away from Harry to come and see her before - but when would he hear the message and understand it? Would he be able to tell them ahead of time that he was coming?

Ron was smart enough to put two and two together, after all, but there was figuring out the message’s meaning, and actually executing it, a feat made altogether infinitely more difficult by Harry being a Horcrux.

Hermione didn’t like thinking about that last bit, but she’d gotten past the point of denying it. Coincidences in the numbers they were looking at simply weren’t possible, and - much like Ron - she was rather good at adding two and two and getting the correct answer of four.

But Harry wasn’t her only concern, just like Mad Eye wasn’t, or Ivan or Dumbledore or Severus…

...or Narcissa.

That was a particular angle Severus was apparently still working on, though he’d been very hush hush about all of it. Draco, likewise, hadn’t made any sort of attempt to bring up his mother at any of the daily Order meetings, but then again, he was likely attempting to protect her in the off chance that not everyone in the Order was loyal to Dumbledore’s side.

Which made it all the more surprisingly when she suddenly appeared on Draco’s arm an hour or so after the message to Ron had been heard over the Wireless.

Hermione quietly thought to herself that it really wasn’t fair that a woman could look that put-together after having spent basically an entire week camped out on a Quidditch pitch, magic on her side or no.

_...she’s so pretty I could cry…_ _  
**I want to know how she manages her** _ **hair.**

If Narcissa was at all surprised to see where she was, she certainly didn’t look it, though her mouth curled slightly in distaste at the sight of Mad Eye hovering nearby, the curling shifting into something more like a coy smile as Severus emerged from the kitchen to approach her.

Watching as he gave Narcissa a gentle kiss to the hand - how long had they been friends? Wasn’t Severus sort of Draco’s unofficial godfather? - Hermione carefully moved closer, her cane clutched tight in her hand as she moved to join the conversation.

They _were_ discussing matters that were rather important to her, after all.

Or, would be, at any rate.

“Ah, Mum-” Draco quietly interrupted whatever it was that Severus and Narcissa were talking about, giving Hermione a small smile as he waved her closer. “-this is Professor Septima Vector, our Arithmancy expert here.”

“Arithmancy?” Narcissa asked, daintily arching an eyebrow. “Oh, that was my favorite subject while I was a student here.”

_...Merlin, I’m going to die…_

“Was it?” Hermione asked, doing her best to ignore Septima’s ramblings, though Hermione had to admit that she was feeling a touch flustered by the running commentary.

“Oh, yes!” Narcissa replied. “I found the whole thing utterly fascinating, though, I feel as though I _must_ ask…”

“Yes?”

“Cardinality? Do you believe in it with your own personal dealings with your equations?”

Hermione blinked, having most certainly **not** anticipated that particular question, and she was fairly certain Septima had just completely short-circuited.

At least Hermione knew the answer. “...well, I think that if you’re going to use the concept of infinity in a spell, you ought to know which infinity you’re talking about, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Narcissa murmured with another smile, though there was definitely an assessment being made that Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of.

“I have absolutely _no_ idea what the two of you are talking about-” Draco chuckled, once again cutting the conversation short. “-but I feel certain it’s something you can easily pick up again later.”

“I look forward to it,” Narcissa murmured.

“Narcissa-” Severus suddenly spoke up. “-would you care to join Septima, Draco and myself for a bit of tea in my office? I believe there is… Much that we all need to discuss.”

“I _am_ admittedly feeling a touch parched,” Narcissa agreed. “Perhaps you could send for something for us to nibble on as well?”

Severus gave a small bow of his head in agreement, and was in the process of asking for the party to follow him to his office when they were interrupted.

“Would you mind if I were to join you as well?” Dumbledore asked, having emerged from Merlin knew where, eyes twinkling rather conspiratorially.

Hermione barely managed to hide her scowl, but was sure she wasn’t imagining the way both Narcissa and Draco stiffened just a hint, their smiles turning more fixed.

They weren’t looking at one another, but Hermione was certain that the two of them had shared a conversation in that split second before Narcissa nodded her head once.

“Of course, Headmaster.” Her tone was just a touch _too_ polite, and Hermione wondered if Dumbledore realized what he was about to get himself into. “I’m sure you have **much** you could potentially add to our discussion as well.”

Septima had the audacity to _giggle_ at that, but Hermione managed to keep her features schooled, figuring it was better to not invite more speculation about herself than strictly necessary given her current situation.

But, she rather _was_ looking forward to being present for a conversation involving Dumbledore and three Slytherins.

She almost felt bad for him.

_Almost_.

Soon enough, the five of them were seated in Severus’ office and a pot of tea and some sandwiches had been sent to them through the fireplace, and perhaps it wasn’t any sort of real surprise to anyone that Dumbledore was doing his best to take over the conversation.

“I must admit, Madame Malfoy, that I was rather surprised to receive your letter the other evening.”

“Were you?” Narcissa asked, still holding that coy smile she’d adopted when she’d first been admitted into Avila. “I would have thought you’d have been expecting it.”

“How so?” Dumbledore countered, a hint of the twinkle in his gaze dimming as he perhaps realized that maybe he didn’t have as strong of a grasp on things as he thought he did.

“Well, who else would have cast that spell against the young Miss Granger?”

“So you _do_ admit to that, Narcissa?” Severus rumbled from his chair, one leg crossed over the other as he studied the blonde over the top of his cup.

Hermione’s grip on her own cup tightened, her eyes falling as she tried to hide her own curiosity over the answer.

“Of course I- Severus Snape!” She suddenly cut herself off, that coy smile falling into something a bit more scandalized suddenly as locked gazes with the man in question. “Have you slipped me a truth serum?!”

“Naturally.”

“That’s dirty Quidditch, you snake!”

“Of course it is,” He admitted with a dark chuckle. “But we need answers, Narcissa, and you are the only person who can currently provide them. I… Have a _position_ to maintain, obviously, as does your son. The Dark Lord has never - and hopefully _will_ never - suspect you of any wrongdoing.”

“Any help that you can provide us with, Madame-” Dumbledore quietly pleaded. “-we will most certainly be eternally grateful for.”

“I didn’t do it for you, Albus Dumbledore,” She shot back, eyes narrowing slightly at Dumbledore as she reached out to rest a hand on her son’s arm. “I did it for my son. I never wanted _this_ life for him, you understand? I wanted him to be free of all of this. Free from men like the Dark Lord. Men like _you_.”

Dumbledore looked offended at the implication, and once more Hermione had to hide her features behind her teacup, and she could feel Severus’ eyes on her.

Thankfully, no one else was looking at her.

“Madame Malfoy, I-”

Narcissa rolled her eyes at Dumbledore and then flicked her wand, immediately silencing the wizard with a wordless _Silencio_ , earning raised eyebrows from everyone else in the room.

“I know he’ll break out of it in a moment, but this way I can explain things uninterrupted.” She took another sip of her tea before asking: “How long will the effects of this Veritaserum last, Severus?”

“An hour, at most. I’ve only given you a mild dose.”

“Will you _Obliviate_ me when it’s all over?”

“If that is what you wish, yes.”

She gave a nod before setting her tea aside, sliding her hands over her robes to smooth out what must’ve been invisible wrinkles before neatly folding her hands in her lap and leveling her gaze at Severus once more.

“Alright then. What do you want to know?”

“What spell did you cast on Hermione Granger?”

“A spell of my own creation.”

“Narcissa-” Severus pressed, quirking an eyebrow up at her, and perhaps there was a threat there that Hermione vaguely recognized.

He could take the memories by force if he felt as though he needed to, couldn’t he? He was trying to keep things from getting to that point.

She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. “It’s called the _Anima Espulsa_.”

“Why did you develop it and what is its purpose?”

“My answer to both of those questions is the same: to help my son.”

Everyone looked a bit confused at that, but once again, Snape spoke up first, furthering the conversation.

“How did firing _Anima Espulsa_ on Miss Granger help Draco, Narcissa?”

“She’s the one the Dark Lord is after, isn’t she? He had spoken privately with Lucius a few days before the attack on the castle, telling him that he wanted Lucius to speak to Draco about bringing Miss Granger to Him. Lucius shared the conversation with me as he thought I might be better suited to convincing our son to help.”

“You never even mentioned it, mum…”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t do it,” Narcissa murmured, turning a watery smile towards her son as she gave his arm a squeeze. “You were so… _different_ when you came home for Christmas, and I knew - I just _knew_ Draco - that you weren’t following in your father’s footsteps. You’ve turned into a man that I am proud to call my son because you are _so much better_ than either of your parents. I couldn’t ask you to hurt someone like Hermione Granger, knowing what it would mean for your future. So, I did some spellwork and developed the _Anima Espulsa_ just before the Dark Lord’s attack the morning of the Equinox.”

“...what does it do, Missus Malfoy?” Hermione quietly asked. “Or, should I ask, what was it that you _intended_ it to do?”

“Render Miss Granger unconscious, and her mind inaccessible. Even when in a deep coma, the mind is still accessible to a powerful enough Legilimens, of which I’m sure we all know Severus is. Had the Dark Lord asked him to, he would’ve had to force his way into her mind and seek the answers the Dark Lord wants or risk exposing himself for what he really is.”

“...how long have you known, Narcissa?” Severus rumbled.

“That you’re a double agent, darling? Or is it triple? I always forget how that works…” She giggled prettily before reaching over to take up her teacup again and lift it to her lips to wet her lips. “...since the night the Dark Lord revealed his plans to attack the Potters. I always knew that you were… _Fond_ of Lily.”

Something dark briefly flitted across Severus’ features at that, and Hermione wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt a pang of jealousy course through her, but she found herself sitting up just a hair straighter in her seat all the same.

“So-” Severus pushed forward, ignoring the revelation that Narcissa had just laid out before them. “-you did it to protect Miss Granger’s mind as well as protect my and your son’s cover? What ever could possibly be in all of this for you, Narcissa?”

“I want immunity, of course,” Narcissa giggled prettily again, flicking her gaze over to the still-silent Headmaster. “Assuming _your_ side wins, Dumbledore. I’ve provided help in a helpless situation, have I not?”

Dumbledore glared at her, the effects of her _Silencio_ still holding, but slowly gave a single nod of agreement.

“May I ask another question of you, ma’am?” Hermione asked as she put her empty cup down, going forward as the blonde gave a nod of agreement.

“How can your spell be reversed?”

A perfectly-arched eyebrow lifted at the question and Narcissa gave a dainty little shrug. “I’d have to develop a counter-spell, but that would take more time, and its execution would be decidedly ghastly.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Severus pushed.

“Well, because you’d have to find her soul again first, wouldn’t you?”

“Mum!”

“Don’t _Mum_ me, Draco Lucius Malfoy! I told you I was trying to protect the girl, and I was. Have you not worked out yet what the spell _says?_ ”

Dumbledore opened his mouth and made an odd croaking sound, but couldn’t do anything else, instead returning to glaring at all of them.

“Anima Espulsa…?” Hermione murmured, nearly at the same time as Severus, the two of them sharing a look - and thus missing the way Narcissa narrowed her eyes just a hint at the interaction - before it very clearly dawned on Severus what it meant.

“It’s Italian, isn’t it?”

“It sounded prettier than the French translation, I must admit,” Narcissa agreed.

“...I’m not following,” Draco murmured, eyes darting back and forth between all of them.

“It quite literally translates to ‘thrown out soul’,” Severus murmured, borderline-glaring at Narcissa as he did so, and Hermione had to bite down hard on her lower lip suddenly to keep the distressed noise bubbling in her throat down where it belonged.

“Well, that’s simple enough, isn’t it?” Draco asked. “It’s fairly obvious that Granger’s soul isn’t in her body, but it’s likely still somewhere on the grounds, yes? We’d just have to find it.”

“Assuming it hasn’t attached to another,” Narcissa countered.

“What difference does that make, mum?”

“It’s easy enough to return a free-floating soul to its body, Draco-” Severus answered, rather pointedly not looking at Hermione as he did so, a fact which Hermione was decidedly grateful for. “-but if Miss Granger’s soul has attached itself to another, it would have to be first unwoven from the other soul it’s attached to, the Anima Espulsa would have to be cast again, and then perfectly timed to ensure that her soul fell _back_ into her own body.”

“Thankfully-” Dumbledore suddenly croaked from his chair, having finally pushed through Narcissa’s _Silencio_. “-there has been no sign of Miss Granger having attached herself to someone. We would know by now if Tom had her, and I feel assured that she would have made her presence known to us if she were amongst us now.”

“So, we just have to find her?” Draco asked. “How would we go about doing that?”

“She would still be on the castle grounds,” Dumbledore replied, still glaring at Narcissa who very much looked as though she didn’t care at all. “Most likely somewhere close to where the spell hit her.”

“Could we develop a spell to detect her?” Draco further pressed.

“Possibly,” Severus answered, finally sparing a glance at Hermione who was most definitely _not_ looking at him, too. “Though we’d have to be exceedingly precise.”

“I thought Precision was your middle name, Sev,” Narcissa teased, though her smile faltered as Severus glared at her again.

“...what if she _did_ attach herself to someone?” Hermione carefully suggested. “But is too scared to come forward? Or made a conscious effort not to to try and protect herself?”

“We would have learned of her presence by now, Septima, I’m sure of it,” Dumbledore answered, trying to sound comforting, though it sounded flat coming from him. “Miss Granger knows where she is wanted and needed, and would know that not making herself known would surely hurt those that care for her and wish for her return.”

_...he has a point, and I don’t like it._ _  
 **Neither do I, Tima.**  
Those who truly care about you will understand, Hermione. You are doing what is necessary to also protect _them _after all._

“I still think we should look into the possibility of her being attached to another-” Hermione replied with a sigh. “-even if it ends up not being needed. Isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?”

“That’s Arithmancy above my learning, I’m afraid,” Narcissa murmured. “I only pursued it for pleasure once I graduated, but I’m fairly certain the base code for the magic you’re all talking about creating is going to require a Master to form.”

“Luckily, we have one of those on hand,” Dumbledore replied, his usual twinkle having once more returned full-force to his blue eyes as he turned them to face Septima.

Hermione wanted to cry, but she gave a nod of her head, feeling Septima give her a hug somehow and wishing she knew how to return it.

“I’ll get to work on the calculations right away then,” She murmured with a nod.

“I’ll provide you with the code for the _Anima Espulsa_ before I leave and before Severus _Obliviates_ me.”

“Mum, I don’t thi-”

“There will be no discussion on this point, Draco.” Narcissa held up her hand to halt her son’s protests. “I can already feel the effects of the Veritaserum wearing off, and I will not be able to remain away from camp for much longer before my lack of presence goes noticed. Severus will erase my memories of this meeting and of the spell I used to ensure that none of it gets back to the Dark Lord. I simply can’t risk it, not knowing how it would come back upon you, darling.”

Draco still looked as though he wanted to protest further, but decided against it, instead giving a nod of his head and clenching his jaw against whatever words still wanted to spill out.

The quintet wrapped up soon enough, and Narcissa was quick to provide Septima with the full spellcode for her creation, letting out a soft sigh of resignation as she turned to look Severus full in the eye.

“Do what you must, then.”

Another couple of minutes, and Draco was escorting his mother back out of Severus’ office with Dumbledore following close behind, leaving Severus and Hermione alone.

Snape murmured a silencing spell to keep everyone else from hearing them, rushing to Hermione’s side in an instant as her knees gave out from under her and the sobs she’d been holding back for the last several minutes finally spilled out.

**_Why didn’t you tell me, Isadora?! Why didn’t you tell me this is why I can’t go back?!_ **

Isadora was silent, but Severus was not, his arms wrapping around her to pull her in close as she sobbed into his chest, continually murmuring to her, though Hermione wasn’t fully aware of what he was saying.

It was soothing, whatever it was, and eventually she managed to regain control of herself, her sobs quieting to the occasional hiccuping sniffle as she stayed there in the comfort of Severus’ warm embrace.

“We’ll figure it out…”

That’s what he was saying to her, over and over again in some way or another, his long fingers gently running through her hair as Hermione curled further into his hold, really not caring that they were sitting on the floor when a perfectly good couch was literally right next to them.

“...but there’s _three_ of us, Severus…” She whispered, her hand fisting gently into the fabric of his vest. “Getting **me** out will be complicated enough, but… W-What about Septima and Isadora?”

_I won’t be leaving Septima, my child. We’re too intrinsically linked, now._  
...don’t I get any say in that?  
If you wish it, though my reasoning on why we must stay together is sound. 

“We’ll figure it out,” He reiterated. “Between Narcissa’s spell, Septima’s grasp on Arithmancy, and my _sheer willingness_ to get you back to where you belong... we’ll get there.”

Hermione pulled back just enough to peer up at him then, a question in her eyes that was answered by the look in his.

He wanted her back in her body, and it was growing more and more obvious the longer they stayed in their current positioning in each other’s arms that it was something they _both_ wanted.

He lifted the hand not wrapped around her waist to gently cradle her cheek, his thumb absently tracing back and forth across her cheekbone as her grip on him tightened further.

He leaned in closer to her then, close enough that her eyes slid closed, and she let out a faint gasp as she felt his lips brush against the corner of one eye, the kiss lingering for a long moment before he shifted to press another to her temple.

She murmured his name, shivering when she felt his fingers slide back from her cheek to cup the back of her head, his hand encouraging her head to tilt back a touch as the tip of his nose traced a delicate path down down her cheek and to her jawline where his lips took up a gentle residence.

He continued tracing a gentle path along her jawline, his kisses staying comforting for all that there were hints of heat in each lingering caress.

Hermione wanted more, and when she felt his lips settle against the corner of her mouth, she turned her head just enough to claim what she wanted, the kiss staying soft and lingering for all that they both were aware of how easily it could turn into more.

Maybe that was why it didn’t. Now wasn’t the time to give in to heat and passion… Now was the time for care and comfort.

It was probably the most tender and downright _intimate_ kiss Hermione had ever experienced, and she didn’t want it to end.

But end it eventually had to, and it was for them to pull back and rest their foreheads against one anothers, quietly taking each other in as they reclaimed control over their breathing.

“...we’ll figure this out together, Hermione. You have my word.”

“I trust you,” She replied, shifting to brush another kiss against his lips before pressing another to his nose, causing a chuckle to rumble deep in his chest.

“I feel as though there is much we still need to discuss, but now is not the time.” Hermione nodded in agreement, but Severus pressed on before she could say anything else. “...would you join me for breakfast in the morning? I… Would like to tell you some things about which Narcissa hinted at, things you have the right to know.”

“You… You mean about Lily?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet her gaze again. “I do.”

“I’ll be here, yes. I-I want to know more about you, Severus.” She blushed as she gave him a small smile. “I feel like we both deserve that…”

“I look forward to it, then,” He agreed with a small smile of his own, leaning close to press one more kiss to her cheek before he shifted and got to his feet, helping her to her own and making sure she was stable with her cane again before walking her to the door.

“Sleep well, Hermione.”

“You, too.” It was her turn to press a kiss to his cheek before stepping back and opening the door. “Goodnight, Severus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another (technically) non-cliffhanger ending??
> 
> Y'all know how and where to yell at me if you still feel the need, though ;)


	36. Chapter 35: Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, but their conversations... How they _do_ blossom...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was sort of inevitable, I think...

Hermione didn’t get nearly as much sleep as she would’ve liked that night when she returned to her rooms, thankful that there was no one present to watch her walk from Severus’ rooms to her own, her mind running at a million miles a minute as she got changed and ready for bed.

She spent a good while just staring up at the canopy over her head, listening to Isadora and Septima argue back and forth about whether or not they should be separated - she, rather unfortunately, found equal amounts of merit for both arguments - and eventually drifted off when they finally agreed to set it aside for the time being and revisit when they were a bit calmer.

Hermione woke up before her alarm went off, and didn’t bother lingering in bed, feeling altogether a bit anxious and definitely excited about the morning ahead of her, and it made her feel a touch more normal when Isadora and Septima had joined forces in teasing her as she got ready for her breakfast date.

Because it sort of _was_ a date, wasn’t it? It felt safe to call it that, and why _shouldn’t_ she be excited about it?

Though, Septima made a good point that it didn’t particularly matter what she looked like since she wasn’t in her own body, but Hermione countered that it still didn’t hurt to make an effort.

Still, practicality won out in the end, and she settled on having Septima guide her through casting a braiding spell on her hair - surprised that it worked the first time because it _certainly_ wouldn’t have on hers - and a simple set of robes that Septima swore would work well with both of their eyes.

Hermione wished she didn’t have to rely on the cane, but her legs still felt awkward beneath her as she walked, her joints still aching from the cold that continued to plague her, and she really rather desperately wanted to know if it was ever going to go away.

As she made her way towards Severus’ rooms, she was quick to note that Moody was in the common room, having passed out in a chair by the fire and was snoring outrageously, a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey on the table beside him, and Hermione let out a silent breath of relief that she wouldn’t have to deal with him on her own just yet.

She knew the time was coming, obviously, but she wasn’t ready to deal with him at present.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long after she’d knocked on Severus’ door, and he was quick to let her in and show her the way to his private rooms once more, and it took Hermione a moment to realize why his image looked a touch _off_.

He wasn’t wearing his overcoat or his teaching robes, and overall it made him look… More approachable. Less like a teacher and more like, well… A man.

A man with surprisingly broad shoulders that tapered down to a lean - but not thin - waist, and without the robes hiding it, Hermione found herself casting a glimpse at his backside.

_Down girl!_ _  
**...says the witch who was drooling over Narcissa Malfoy last night.**   
How did you just  _ smirk _at me without moving our mouth???_

And maybe she was blushing when he turned back around to face her, but she wasn’t going to try and hide it or even bother explaining it, and while it was obvious that Severus’ noticed the darkening of her cheeks, he didn’t comment outside of partially raising a single eyebrow.

“Our breakfast isn’t here just yet,” He murmured as he reached out to guide her the rest of the way to the table, his hand resting at the small of her back. “But should be along shortly. I do, however, have some tea and coffee already prepared if you would care for a cup?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” She replied, giving him a gentle smile, and she let out a slow breath as he turned back around and made his way towards the table to fetch her her drink.

_You’re looking again._ _  
**Can you blame me?**  
I certainly can not.  
You’re both hopeless._

Hermione slowly made her way over to the table to join him, easing herself down into a chair and giving him a grateful smile as he handed her a steaming cup, though she waited until he’d fixed his own - a cup of coffee, it would seem - and had taken a seat before she moved to take a sip.

It was perfect, just the way Septima liked it.

“You seem… _Sad_ all of a sudden, Hermione.”

“A little melancholy, perhaps,” She admitted, eyes focused on the teacup in her hands. “I just have a lot of thoughts today, it seems.”

“May I inquire as to what sort of thoughts?”

She gently shrugged at that. “...I was just thinking about how much you notice, how well you know the people around you and just how little they all probably know about you.” She lifted her gaze to his again at that. “It seems very… Forgive me, but it seems very _lonely_ to me.”

“It can be,” He replied, and Hermione was a bit shocked by his open honesty, at how _easily_ the admission had slipped out of him. “But I… haven’t had an easy life. I am not a social person by nature, as you have no doubt gathered, and making friends is often a challenge.”

“I know the feeling,” Hermione murmured, the admission stinging a bit.

“We _do_ seem to have a bit of that in common, don’t we?” Severus quipped. “Though you, at least, have blossomed a bit more fully than I ever did as a student here.”

Hermione snorted. “What, because I lied back in first year for a couple of stupid boys? Took on a mountain troll by myself…” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe you all didn’t punish me for that one.”

Severus chuckled darkly at that, taking a sip of his coffee. “It took guts to lie as you did, and ultimately we decided the terror of nearly being eaten by a troll was punishment enough.”

“You _knew_?”

“Of course we did,” He chuckled. “You were eleven, Hermione-”

“Twelve.”

“-you didn’t know how to _lie_ yet. Not as a Gryffindor, that’s for certain…”

“You’re saying you _could_ convincingly lie when you were that age?”

“No, but I was quicker to keep my mouth shut. Why take the blame if there wasn’t something waiting for me at the end of it?”

“Circe, but you _are_ a Slytherin.”

“I’ve told you before, Hermione, and I’ll say it again: Don’t you forget it, either.”

They were interrupted, suddenly, by a small pop, a house elf appearing who was carefully balancing a tray in each hand, one of which it put down in front of Hermione before giving the second one to Severus.

Both of them thanked the elf before it disappeared again with another pop.

“I hope I chose something to your liking?” Severus quietly asked, waiting for Hermione to lift the lid off of her tray before he did the same with his.

“Septima doesn’t often eat breakfast, so I wasn’t entirely sure what would be agreeable for both of you.”

**_Oh._ ** _  
...okay fine, you can keep looking if he’s going to keep being this considerate. _

While Severus had, apparently, gone for a full English, he’d asked the kitchens to prepare something a bit lighter for Hermione, and she was staring down at a plate overflowing with fresh fruit and buttered toast with raspberry preserves and rather-perfectly cooked eggs.

“We both thank you,” She murmured, giving him a slightly-watery smile as she reached to pick up an orange slice, swearing to herself that she wasn’t going to cry over a pre-sliced piece of fruit.

Even if it _was_ her favorite and he remembered that she was still struggling a bit with general motor function…

“You’re both quite welcome,” He replied, giving her a soft smirk. “I’ve never seen either of you indulge in a full English before, so I wasn’t sure if it was the sort of thing you would enjoy.”

Hermione giggled at that, shaking her head. “I have my mother’s stomach, I’m afraid. Can’t eat anything too heavy first thing in the morning.” She paused for a second before laughing again and continuing. “Septima says she just doesn’t care for beans that much.”

Severus joined in her laughter at that one, though his was a quieter sort, more of a chuckle, but at least he was still gently smiling.

He didn’t smile enough, and Hermione thought that was an absolute shame.

_I believe you are_ giving _him more of a reason to smile, my child.  
Agreed._

They fell into a mostly-companionable silence as they ate, though Hermione noticed both of them seemed to be lingering a bit, as though to draw the silence out a bit longer than might’ve been necessary.

Maybe they were both feeling a bit anxious about the conversation they needed to have. Hermione knew she certainly was, after all, though she couldn’t immediately figure out why.

Finally, Severus finished off most of his plate and moved to lean back some in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he pulled his coffee cup closer towards him, cradling it in those long fingers of his as he watched Hermione eat a sliver of her orange.

“You have questions, don’t you?” He finally broke the silence to ask, his voice a low, warm murmur, though there was a hint of something almost self-conscious lingering in the corners of his eyes.

“...I do,” Hermione admitted, wiping her fingers on her napkin before gathering her own teacup into her hands and moving to unconsciously mirror his pose.

“I have a lot of them, actually, but I-I wasn’t quite sure where to begin.”

“Perhaps with the most pressing one?” He suggested, leaning forward long enough to top off his coffee before returning to his previous position. “I have a feeling I know what it is, but I would like to hear you ask it, regardless.”

Hermione gave him a nod of understanding, taking a sip of her tea before she shifted forward herself, gently resting her elbows on the table as she sought to find the words she wanted.

“...what did Narcissa mean, yesterday, when she mentioned you were fond of Lily Potter?”

Severus let his eyes close at the question, and Hermione knew she’d asked both the right question _and_ the wrong one, but she stayed silent, giving him as much time as he needed to form his response.

“...she was my best friend,” He finally replied, voice even quieter than it had been just a moment previously. “We grew up not far from each other. I… was the first one who recognized she was a witch, actually.

“She was my _only_ friend, truth be told. I was a terribly awkward child, and it probably comes as little surprise that I was not quick to make friends. Lily… Didn’t care that I was dirt poor or knew words so big her parents had to look them up in the dictionary.

“When we came to Hogwarts, I thought for sure that I had lost her when she was sorted to Gryffindor and I to Slytherin, but she remained my constant companion as much as she was able. We studied together in the library or outside by the lake when the weather permitted…”

He fell quiet again for a moment, and Hermione knew he was struggling a bit, and she fought against the urge to reach out to him as she wasn’t exactly sure how such an act would be perceived at such a time.

“But, for all that we were friends, we lived two _very_ different lives. My childhood was not a happy one, though I would prefer to… _not_ go into the details of that at this time. I had hoped that Hogwarts would be different. Perhaps at first it was, but… It would not remain so.”

“...do you mean the Marauders?”

“I do,” He replied, looking a bit surprised that she’d so quickly put two and two together, and Hermione was quick to put forth her answer before he could ask his question.

“I heard what Sirius liked to call you, Severus, and I see the way Remus looks at you now, a-as though he wants to repent. Harry never really would tell us about what happened during his Occlumency lessons, but I know one night he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. He um… He lost some of the hero-worship he had for his dad that night. I know that much.”

“...he saw the memory of the day I lost Lily Evans from my life.”

Hermione frowned at that, not following, but still, she hesitated to ask. If he was going to tell her, she didn’t want him to do it because he felt pressured to do so.

“You’re not going to ask _how_ I lost her? I’m surprised.”

“It’s your story to tell, Severus. I want to know, of course, but only if you’re ready to tell me.”

“I called her a Mudblood.”

It stung worse than Hermione had anticipated, probably because he’d said it so casually, and she stiffened some in her seat even as she fought to hide the wince that had taken over at his words.

“...I know how wrong it was,” He gently continued, and Hermione could feel his eyes on her. “I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was hurt and lashing out, and she was an easy target. The Marauders… I was an easy target for their pranks and hijinks. I often found myself engaged in some battle or another with them.”

“...four against one?” Hermione looked up at that, obviously shocked and a bit angry. “How very Gryffindor of them, as if stacking the odds in their favor somehow makes them more brave.”

“Indeed,” He agreed. “That day in particular… It was just after we’d sat for our OWLS. I was trying to get some fresh air, and they… Came out of nowhere. I couldn’t fight back as I normally would’ve, and I-”

He cut himself off suddenly, eyes sliding shut again, and this time Hermione didn’t hesitate to reach out to him, gently resting her hand on his arm in a silent show of support.

“-Potter suspended me upside down in midair. Lily… attempted to come to my aid, but I had seen her giggling at my expense just moments prior. I shouted at her that I didn’t need the help of a Mudblood and she ran off. Things… Went further south from there.”

“Severus, I-”

“It was the final straw, to be honest,” He pressed on, neither acknowledging her hand or dismissing it and Hermione wasn’t sure which was worse. “Things had grown strained between us over the years, and my… Friendships, for lack of a better term, with some of my fellow Slytherins had further driven the wedge between us. I shouted at her because I was hurting and angry and embarrassed at what one of _her_ friends had done to me.”

“But… You said you regretted it immediately.”

“I did. I even made attempts to apologize, but she wouldn’t hear it.”

Hermione blinked at that, obviously a bit shocked. She’d always heard how kind and forgiving Lily was, and to hear this now from Severus was… Something else.

Then again, Hermione thought, could she forgive a friend who’d called her _that?_

“...how does Narcissa’s comment factor into all of this?”

“As I said, Lily was the only true friend I had,” He replied after a long moment, once again not quite looking at Hermione. “I… Cared for her a great deal. _Loved_ her, in fact. I-I believe I always _will_ love her…”

There was the other shoe, and Hermione blinked at that, suddenly feeling a bit hot under the collar for all that she knew she had no right to feel that way in the slightest.

“...you’re upset.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head as she withdrew her hand to fold both of them in her lap. “I shouldn’t be, I kno-”

“I said I loved her, Hermione. She was my best friend, and will always have a special place in my heart because of that. I did not, however, say that the feeling was… Romantic in nature.”

Hermione could feel her cheeks heat up in a rush of embarrassment at that, and she mentally kicked herself for rushing to conclusions.

“It was just that… Narcissa said-”

“I am aware of what Narcissa said and implied yesterday-” His voice had turned a bit gentler at least. “-but Narcissa was removed from the situation, wasn’t she? Observing things from the outside. I can understand how she... Reached the conclusion she did, but it was a false one.

He sighed. “It’s possible that, once upon a time, I had imagined that Lily and I would, perhaps, be more than friends, but I was not the one her heart chose. I accepted it, for all that I did not like it, and I let her go. When I tried to make amends for my actions, she turned me away, and I…I was heartbroken, yes. I’ll admit it. But she had made her choice, and who was I to try and change that?”

Something else occurred to Hermione, though, and she slowly lifted her gaze to meet Severus’ again.

“...Narcissa also mentioned something about the night He targeted the Potters, but… how did you know?”

Shame ran across Severus’ dark eyes at the question, and he turned his gaze away again, silent for a long moment as he contemplated his answer.

“...because I am the one that overheard the Prophecy regarding Potter and the Dark Lord. I am the one that shared it with Him, and I am, therefore, the reason that he targeted and killed James and Lily Potter.”

“Severus, I-”

“I ran to Dumbledore as soon as I realized the Dark Lord’s plans. Narcissa… Obviously knew I would given what she thinks she knows and understands about the nature of my feelings towards Lily. Dumbledore… Asked for my service in return for their protection.”

“Wait.” Hermione sat up a bit straighter at that. “He asked for your loyalty _in return_ for their protection? These people who… Who had already proclaimed their loyalty to him? He only agreed to protect them if you began acting as his _spy?!_ What sort of fucked up logic is that? He should’ve just… Protected them outright, and then asked you to join his side to continue helping others.”

Severus looked up at her suddenly with a slightly shocked expression, as though that particular thought had never occurred to him.

“What sort of ego maniacal leader plays those sorts of games with his followers? That’s… Circe, I want to toss him over the Astronomy Tower even more now.”

“Hermione-”

“No, Severus, I mean it. You were, what… Nineteen? Twenty years old when this happened? You made some bad choices, and then you tried to rectify them, and Dumbledore decided to use that to his advantage and what… Push you into a life of indentured servitude?”

“I knew what I was doing when I took the Dark Mark, Hermione-” Severus quickly countered. “-I didn’t go into the decision blindly.”

“And? Do you _still_ wear it proudly?”

“Of course not, but I-”

“And what made you change your mind about that? Hmmm? Was it, perhaps, you remembering your love for a childhood friend? Remembering there was still _some good_ in this world? That maybe that meant there was still _some good_ left in this world for **you?** ”

He was silent for a long moment after that, not moving - not even blinking - as he contemplated her words.

“...I will never understand how your mind works, will I Hermione?”

She felt herself blushing again. “H-How do you mean?”

“I’ve been slowly learning more about you over the last several months, slowly beginning to understand why you were re-sorted in Avila. What you just said… While it was delivered in a very _Gryffindor_ sort of way, it was… Well, it was a very Slytherin sort of thing to say.”

“...oh…”

“And you’re right, for the record. I do believe that _is_ largely why I turned my back on the Dark Lord. Lily, for all that she didn’t want me anymore, was still my best friend and the thought of a world without her in it was too dark for my mind to really contemplate at the time.”

“We all make mistakes, Severus,” Hermione reached back out to him again, this time to gently take his hand in hers. “What’s important is how we atone for them, and I-I think you’ve done your atoning.”

He looked at her curiously at that. A bit sadly even. “...Have I? Have I done _enough_?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

She felt a tingle in her fingertips suddenly, and looked down to notice that the Strain was creeping from beneath her nails to slowly circle both of their hands, the tendrils brushing against both of their wrists, and Hermione squeezed his hand to get him to notice.

_I wish to speak with him.  
 **Can you do that?**  
Of course I can, Hermione. He just needs to open his mind to us._

“...Isadora says she wants to speak with you.”

Severus looked up from where he’d been studying their hands, eyes narrowing a hint at the request though he slowly gave a small nod in acquiescence.

“I suppose she’s requesting access to my mind? Should I cast the spell then, or will you?”

“She says you should, but to drop your Occlumency shields.”

He frowned, but nodded again before locking eyes with her, and a moment later, Hermione felt him swim into her mind…

...but then, she was swimming in his as well, wasn’t she?

She couldn’t feel Septima’s presence, and maybe that was for the best, because Isadora was showing Severus things, showing him moments throughout his life from when she had been studying him, had been preparing herself to come forward once more.

_His being sorted... The first fight with all four of the Marauders… Him studying for his OWLS and again for his NEWTS… Him apologizing to Lily… The night he approached Lucius and asked to be taken to a revel… The night he turned to Dumbledore…_

And then...

_...The moment he realized he was destined for more… His first kiss with Hermione… Further hints at what futures lay before them, including a whisper of skin pressed against skin…_

When Isadora broke the connection and the two of them slowly started to come back to themselves, it was to realize that they’d drawn impossibly closer to one another while they’d been connected, and their noses were practically touching.

Hermione leaned in just a hint further, closing the distance and brushing her nose against his as her eyelids fluttered partially-shut.

“...I think Isadora believes you’ve absolved yourself. It’s why you’re here, now, in Avila…”

“I think she was saying quite a bit more than just _that_ , Hermione.”

_What the hell did you just make me miss??_ _  
Nothing you need worry about._

“Is she wrong?”

He shook his head, leaning closer still and Hermione could feel a ghost of a touch against her lips as he replied.

“No… I don’t think she is.”

But, just as their lips connected, they jumped apart again when a sudden furious pounding sounded against the door to Severus’ office.

“Snape!” Moody bellowed. “I know you’re in there, you bleedin’ snake! What have you told your Master now?! The Dark Mark is flying over the castle!”

“Circe, no…” Hermione whimpered.

And her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head as a violent shudder coursed through her, the Strain spinning wildly out of control as a hundred different things all changed at once, and she was distantly aware of Severus shouting for help just before she was overwhelmed by all of it and her vision when completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I restrained myself as long as I could, y'all. I'm not sorry :P
> 
> You know what to do and where to yell ;)


	37. Chapter 36: Reveals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people learn some things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on making y'all wait so long for this chapter, I promise, but Life had other plans. I hope this Beast(tm) makes up for it!

It was different, this time, compared to how it had been previously.

Her vision went black, her body limp, but still… She was terribly aware of everything that was going on around her.

Could hear Severus calling out for help, could feel the Strain flowing through and around her, could smell coffee and oranges in the air, could almost taste the acrid burn of spellsmoke that had no business at all being in the air.

She just couldn’t see.

But she could hear when Moody and the others - it sounded like McGonagall and Molly, for starters - came bursting into the room, could feel when Severus lifted her into his arms to carry her out of his rooms and into the Common Room, smelled whatever it was that Molly had been cooking burning in the kitchen as she helped Severus get Septima’s body up onto the table again, could taste something cool and almost minty being poured down her throat.

There was something red tinging the edges of her vision now, and slowly, everything else quieted a bit, and she could _breathe_ , taking in a large, gasping lungful as she pried her eyes opened and looked around her, lifting trembling hands to reach out to someone, glad that Severus recognized it was her and came closer…

But he was stopped by Moody, and McGonagall stepped forward instead, gently smoothing a hand over Septima’s brow as she took her hand in her free one.

“Easy, Septima,” She cooed. “Just rest.”

“You’ve got some explainin’ to do, snake!” Moody had taken Severus by the collar with both hands, and looked as though he was about to bodily throw the younger man across the room, but Severus somehow looked incredibly cool and collected, all things considered.

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about, Alast-”

“I saw you sneaking outta here last night! I know you went to Him an-”

“What you _saw_ was me doing what I have been instructed to do - on Dumbledore’s orders, no less - for the better part of twenty years now.” Still so calm and collected, but there was something dangerous growing in Severus’ eyes and Hermione honestly hoped Moody got a dose of something nasty pointed at him soon.

“Last night I was Summoned. I do not deny it. _However_ -” Severus continued, arching an eyebrow as he tried to step away from Moody and the other wizards hands tightened a bit. “-I have not been informed as to why the Dark Mark is now flying over the castle. He made no mention of attacking the castle last night, but instead had summoned me to ascertain the condition of Miss Granger. He seems to think that she may still be of some use to Him despite all evidence to the contrary.”

Hermione blanched at that, and was perhaps a touch surprised that he hadn’t mentioned it to her sooner, but - then again - they’d had other things to discuss, and up until this very moment, had any of it really mattered?

Slowly easing herself upright - McGonagall was trying to push her back down, but ultimately failed - she closed her eyes again and let the Strain spill forth, only opening her eyes once she felt it floating fully before her so she could study everything that had just happened.

“He’s making threats at the moment,” She murmured, drawing attention to herself and allowing Severus to finally break free from Moody. “But doesn’t seem to have attacked the castle just yet. But he’s changing his plans, trying to move up his timeline.”

“Is he succeeding?” McGonagall asked, her hand now resting on Septima’s shoulder.

“Not yet, no… The final battle is still set for the Solstice, but it looks as though things are about to get far more intense in the meantime.”

Hermione turned to look at McGonagall then. “You’ll need to talk to Dumbledore. See if there’s a way to start getting the students out before things get uglier. There are parents on both sides of this fight, after all, and no one should have to suffer the loss of a child.”

“Oh, so we should save children that have been raised in hate and will grow up to be just as hateful as their parents?” Moody scoffed.

In an instant, his back was to the wall and his feet dangled off the ground due to the strength of Molly's spell holding him in place, a look of cold fury etched into the Weasley matriarch’s features as she shuffled closer to the wizard she’d pinned.

“They’re still _children_ , Alastor Moody - some of them barely more than babies - and you would have us kill them?”

“No, I-” He tried to sputter, eyes darting around the room, silently begging someone to come to his aid.

None came.

“Not saving them - which you have suggested - means we are killing them. Killing children because of who their parents are?” Molly scoffed again and Moody gagged as her spell’s hold tightened further on him.

“How does that make us any better than _Him_ , hmmm? Explain that to me.”

“I believe you have made your point, Molly.” Came a calm voice suddenly from the doorway of Severus’ office, and nearly everyone turned to note that Dumbledore had appeared with Draco in tow.

“Have I?” Molly countered, eyes still fixed on Moody. “Where does it stop, Dumbledore? What’s the difference between us and them if we’re still willing to let innocent blood be spilled? ‘Oh, it’s okay if their parents are Death Eaters!’ Well, _bollocks_ to that!”

She turned her eyes then to face Dumbledore, releasing the spell on Moody who fell to the floor with a floundering gasp, a hand raising to rub at his neck as he remembered how to breathe again.

“You _will_ get every child that you possibly can out of the castle, Dumbledore,” Molly continued, the look she’d been leveling at Moody now turned on the Headmaster. “I don’t care if you have to get them out through Avila, or if you sign a bloody truce with _Him_ to walk them out the front gates. **EVERY** child will make it out of this safe and sound, is that clear?”

There was a long, tense moment of stillness so quiet a dropped pin could’ve been heard tinkling against the floor, and then…

“...blimey, Missus Weasley, but you’re as terrifying as _my_ mum,” Draco murmured from where he still stood just behind Dumbledore.

“We’re mothers, dear,” She replied, giving Draco a considerably-softer smile. “It’s our job to go absolutely _feral_ when children are in danger.”

Moody had managed to get to his feet by that time, though was still gently massaging his neck, his magical eye swiveling all around to take in everyone’s reactions to what had just happened, and Hermione almost wished she could read his mind just then.

_He’s the type to believe that collateral damage is all part of the greater good. It’s okay to lose some if in the end it means you win more.  
He gives them a bad name. Him and those like him.  
**Who?**  
Men. Men who think their word is the word of God. Dumbledore is not much better._

Before Hermione could offer up an agreement, though, she felt a little tremor run through her, and looked down to see a faint red tendril from the Strain wrapping around her wrist. Following the line of it with her eyes, she watched as it bled into the overall flow of numbers, losing sight of it a moment later.

“...someone is going to die tonight,” She muttered, not realizing she’d said it out loud until she felt everyone’s eyes settle on her.

“Septima?” Dumbledore asked, taking a step closer to her, a question forming in his eyes that was reflected in the eyes of everyone else around her, but he wasn’t given the chance to voice it.

None of them were.

A terrible, achingly familiar ringing suddenly filled the air, and all of them reached up to clap their hands over their ears - Remus, in particular, looked acutely distressed - and while the ringing died away after a moment, it was only so that it could be replaced with an even more-terribly familiar voice.

_”I have been patient so far, Dumbledore,” Voldemort murmured, his voice all around them despite its quieter tone suggesting the words were being whispered into their ears. “I have waited while you plotted and planned, locked away in that stone fortress you call a school… All the while promising that I would be merciful._

_It should come as no secret that I want… So very few things. Give them to me, and all shall be forgiven and forgotten. The children have suffered enough… Let them leave if they wish. I… would not harm a magical being. Every drop of magic that flows through the veins of those that live inside your fortress is precious to me and I do not wish to waste it…_

_Surrender yourself, Dumbledore. Yourself and the Keeper of the Strain, the Granger girl… I shall wait until nightfall for your response. Should you fail to give it… Well, consider this your only warning. I **will** take the castle by force, and you shall not stop me._

_Nightfall, Dumbledore. Remember…”_

Their ears were filled with the ringing again, though it faded away to leave an even more-terrible silence with only the faint rustling of clothing being heard as everyone once more turned to face Dumbledore.

“Albus…” McGonagall murmured, her lips thinned to the point of almost disappearing as she leveled her most ferocious glare at him.

“I can not give him what he wants, Minerva, you must understa-”

“Understand _what_ exactly, Albus?” McGonagall shot back, her brogue thickening considerably as she started getting more worked up. “That you are willing to sacrifice the lives of innocent people for… what, exactly? Explain.”

“You cannot comprehe-”

“Oh, there is _plenty_ that I comprehend. I comprehend that you’ve lost sight of the bigger picture. That this game of chess you think you’re playing has gotten away from you and now, here we are in the final hour, and you’re in check!”

“What Tom wan-”

“He’s _not Tom Riddle anymore you **blasted fool!!**_ ”

McGonagall had finally broken.

“Hermione Granger is just the first, Albus. You know that. What else will he want when he realizes she doesn’t have what he’s looking for, hmmm? You hide behind your smoke screens and send your pawns out to test the waters, and for _what?_ Hmmm? How many times have we almost lost Severus? How many times have you put the rest of us at risk? And what about Harry?”

She showed no sign of losing steam, and it was becoming more apparent by the minute that absolutely no one was coming to the aid of the Headmaster, save for perhaps Moody who still looked a bit terrified to speak after Molly’s outburst.

“Harry is sa-”

“Oh, _fuck_ ye, Albus Dumbledore! Harry hasn’t bin safe since th' moment ye turned heem ower tae those wretched fowk ye caa his relati'es, an' ye damn weel ken it!!”

Oh, but he _had_ properly angered Minerva, hadn’t he?

“Ah didn’t say enaw tae stop ye 'en, but I’m damn weel gonnae dae mair tae gonnae-no ye noo! Yoo’re gonnae meit wi' **Heem** , Albus Dumbledore, an' yoo’re gonnae barter tae gie th' bairns it. _Withit_ givin' up Hermione Granger!”

The room fell back into a deadly sort of quiet once Minerva had finished yelling - possibly because a few people were trying to translate just what exactly she’d said - though the silence was broken when Minerva cleared her throat and straightened back up, smoothing her hands over the front of her robes to sort of put herself back together.

“If I had the power, I would remove you from office, Albus, and take over all of this myself. You’ve let things go along such a dangerous path for far too long, and look where it’s gotten you. We’re _dying_ and you think that’s acceptable.”

And then, a quiet voice came from towards the back of the room, and everyone turned to watch as Remus Lupin stepped forward.

“I believe, perhaps, a vote should be taken on the subject.”

“A vote, Remus?” Arthur asked.

“On whether or not Minerva should take over. We could… Allow the Headmaster to continue acting as though he’s in charge for the sake of appearances, but perhaps a change of command _is_ in order.”

Dumbledore was looking wildly around himself at the proclamation, thinking that _surely_ Remus would be in the minority in his thoughts…

“All those in favor of Minerva taking over-” Remus murmured. “-raise your hand and say ‘aye’!”

Everyone but Moody and Dumbledore himself raised their hand and said ‘aye’.

A thousand emotions crossed over Dumbledore’s face in the seconds following the near-unanimous decision to remove him from his post, but eventually his face settled on acceptance, however reluctant.

“...I see,” He murmured, clasping his hands in front of himself as he turned to face Minerva directly.

“What are your orders then, Minerva?”

“Oh, no, Albus. I want the _words_.” Minerva was giving him another hard look, lifting her arms to cross them over her chest as she shifted her stance into something stronger. “I want a proper transference of power, the way it’s supposed to be done.”

Flitwick stepped forward at that, producing his wand. “The wards will need to recognize the change in command, as well.”

Severus, too, stepped forward, wand drawn. “And it must be done as quickly and efficiently as possible to ensure the Dark Lord doesn’t notice. He’s been keen on watching the wards to check for any possible weak spots.”

There was a muttered ‘of course _you’d_ know that’ from Moody, but everyone ignored him in favor of coming to form a circle around Minerva and Dumbledore, preparing themselves to help however they could.

What followed was quick, a few words spoken by both parties, a few incantations that everyone partook in that Flitwick led, and then… That was it.

Minerva was Head of the school and Dumbledore was… Not.

The tension in the room was high, but no one dared to comment on it, instead returning to going about their business for a bit while Dumbledore and Moody retracted to apparently lick their wounds.

“I don’t trust either of them,” Hermione murmured to Severus once they were alone a long moment later.

“Neither do I,” He agreed, though he was stopped from saying anything further by Minerva approaching them both, a stern look on her features, and Hermione braced herself for more anger.

“I need to have a word with both of you. Your office will be sufficiently private, I believe, Severus.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He agreed with a small dip of his head, and it wasn’t long before the three of them were ensconced in his office.

“First and foremost-” Minerva started once she was sure the door was locked and a silencing charm had been placed on it to keep anyone from listening in. “-I’d like to start by thanking the both of you for supporting me this morning. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

Hermione resisted the urge to snort, but couldn’t even begin to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

It fell, however, an instant later.

“Secondly, I would like to address a rather _delicate_ matter, but one that bears addressing nonetheless: have the two of you become romantically involved?”

Hermione sputtered and Snape looked genuinely shocked by the question, though he was able to regain his faculties faster and responded

“Minerva, you know just as well as I do that Septima is… Not attracted to people such as myself.”

“You can say ‘men’, Severus. Septima has never hidden her leanings from any of us. That still begs the question as to what the two of you are doing having a romantic breakfast together. Pair that with the way the two of you look at one another, the way you act around one another, and it stands to reason that things are… Developing.”

“I… I’m not Septima Vector.”

Two pairs of eyes swiveled towards Hermione at that, and two more voices of distress spoke up within her.

“You can’t-” Severus started.

“It’s my secret to share, Severus,” Hermione countered. “I trust her to know it.”

“Know _what_ exactly?!” Minerva asked.

“...I-I’m Hermione Granger.”

Minerva laughed at that, though it started out as a snort, and she looked absolutely amused beyond measure as she looked back and forth between Severus and Hermione, sure they were playing some sort of trick on her.

“Oh, that’s a good one!” She finally managed to reply in between her giggles, though the more she looked between them, the more she thought about it, the faster the giggles died away.

“...you _are_ joking, aren’t you?”

“I wish I were, ma’am,” Hermione murmured, taking a small step forward and reaching out to take the older witch’s hands in hers. “But I very much am _not_.”

“Severus?” Minerva asked, sparing a glance at him.

“It’s true, Minerva. The spell that was cast on Miss Gra-... On _Hermione_ cast her soul out of her body and into Septima’s, along with the Strain. She’s been like this since then.”

Minerva looked back at the woman before her then, peering deep into her eyes to see if she could see Hermione for herself.

She didn’t have to look far.

“I-I hadn’t even noticed the change in your eye color… But just the one?”

“Septima is… Still in here,” Hermione clarified. “She says hello, by the way, and that she misses your shortbread.”

“Ho-How long have _you_ known, Severus?” Minerva asked, turning her gaze towards him.

“Since shortly after she woke up. It’s the reason all attempts to wake Hermione thus far have failed. She’s… Not there _to_ wake up.”

“How do we fix it?”

“We… Have something of a plan,” Hermione replied, giving Minerva’s hands a squeeze. “But we’ll basically have to create the magic for ourselves to make it work. We know the spell used, at least, and that’s a good start.”

Minerva still looked a bit flabbergasted, but then her features morphed a bit and Hermione realized that something else had dawned on her.

“You haven’t actually answered my question, yet, you know.”

“...Minerva?” Severus rumbled, but it was clear from the way he stiffened next to Hermione that he knew just as well as she did what Minerva was about to ask them.

“Have the two of you become romantically involved?”

They were silent, but turned to look at one another, sharing a look. They knew just how badly this conversation could turn, after all.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’, then,” Minerva tutted, dropping Hermione’s hands and crossing her arms over her chest. “Need I remind you, Severus, that Hermione is a _student_?”

“Technically, I’m not right now, actu-”

“You were just a few weeks ago, Miss Granger.”

“I can assure you ma’am that we-”

“Nothing that has happened between us-” Severus interrupted, locking eyes with Minerva. “-would’ve happened while Herminoe was still my student. For that matter, very little has actually _happened_ , and will remain that way for some time yet.”

“So, what exactly _is_ happening then?” Minerva asked, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked between the two of them again.

“In a word? We are… Courting.”

Minerva looked taken aback by Severus’ explanation - Hermione sort of felt like melting - but Severus continued on.

“We are getting to know one another, Minerva. You, of all people, should understand how Hermione’s mind works, and how… Unlikely it is that she would’ve fallen for one of her contemporaries.”

“And you?” Minerva scoffed. “Courting a witch nineteen years your junior? While she’s in the body of another woman, no less?”

“Nothing _untoward_ has happened, Professor,” Hermione countered, somehow sensing Severus’ growing discomfort on this subject.

“I care for him. I care _about_ him, and he cares for and about me. We’re getting to know one another as more than just a professor and student, and have found that we’ve got quite a lot in common, actually. It seems odd to you right now, sure, but ten, fifteen years down the road? No one in our world would even _blink_ at such an age difference, and we all know it.”

Severus was looking taken aback for an entirely different reason then, and Minerva just looked skeptical, but Hermione continued, not giving either of them a chance to interrupt her.

“I know things, professor. I-I’ve _seen_ things, and I know what’s to come. In another life, I could’ve ended up with any number of people - Viktor, Ron, hell, even _Ginny_ \- but in _this_ life? I’m on the path I’m meant to be on. So, yes, we’re courting.” She stepped closer to Severus, and reached out to gently link their hands together. “And we would appreciate the support, but ultimately it’s not necessary.”

Severus squeezed her hand, and Hermione squeezed his back.

Minerva’s eyes had turned down to study their joined hands, quiet for a long moment before she let out a singular swear, falling silent again for a tad longer before continuing.

“I can’t say I approve-” She muttered, but there was something twinkling there in her eyes, wasn’t there? “-but I can’t say I _dis_ approve, either. The two of you… Make sense, I suppose. There will be plenty of naysayers over it, of course, but I think both of you are strong enough to handle it.”

It wasn’t a blessing, but neither of them had been looking for one.

“Now that _that_ is out of the way-” Severus quietly rumbled, giving Hermione’s hand another small squeeze before letting go so he could cross his arms over his chest again. “-I believe we have more matters to discuss, Minerva, since you have taken over as lead of the school and the Order.”

“Yes, I do suppose you’re right…”

Hermione turned towards the fireplace, carefully bending down and calling out to the kitchens so she could put in an order for some tea and biscuits for all of them, straightening back up with a wince as her knees cracked before making her way back over to a chair and sitting down on it.

Severus didn’t even break his flow of speech when he conjured her a blanket for her legs - he wasn’t even looking at her, actually - and was still explaining some of the Dark Lord’s plans to Minerva when the tea and biscuits arrived.

The three of them spent the next few hours discussing and planning, and by the time a plan had been formed and agreed upon, the tea had been refilled at least three times, and they’d moved past biscuits onto proper sandwiches.

“So, how do we get the students out?” Hermione asked. “Forming a truce obviously isn’t going to happen, but what can we give Him that will work in place of handing _me_ over?”

“He won’t be satisfied with much else, I’m afraid,” Severus murmured. “The Dark Lord knows that we are at a disadvantage here and that there is very little we can do to refuse him.”

“He’s not getting my bo-”

“Nor am I suggesting he should,” Severus was quick to soothe. “I am merely pointing out that our options are… Limited.”

“What is it that he ultimately wants, then, Severus?” Minerva asked, arching an eyebrow at him over her teacup.

“He wants control over everything. The school, the Ministry… Our entire world, if he could manage it.”

“He practically _does_ have control over the Ministry-” Minerva countered. “-and it wouldn’t take much more for him to actually gain it. Once that happens, we stand little chance of holding our own, regardless of who is in charge.”

“What if…” Hermione murmured, her brow furrowing a bit. “...we offered to give him Hogwarts in exchange for letting the students go freely today?”

“How could you suggest such a thi-!”

“Let her finish, Minerva.”

“I’m not saying we actually do it,” Hermione clarified, sitting up a tad straighter in her seat. “But what if we make an agreement with him that if he lets the students go tomorrow, and they are left unmolested during their leaving, that we’ll give him the castle on the Solstice?”

“Why the Solstice?” Severus asked, though there was a twinkle in his gaze that suggested he already knew where she was going with this.

“We’ll say it’s under pretense of needing to get things in order. Wards to keep Him out can’t be dismantled overnight, and there’s obviously all sorts of things that have to be done to properly prepare for handing it over to him. _We_ know how easy it is, obviously, considering we just watched Dumbledore hand the reins over to Minerva. But _He_ doesn’t, does he?”

“And in the meantime?” Minerva asked.

“That gives us, what… Basically two months to prepare our defenses? We already know we can Apparate into and out of Avila, and that we can access the castle through your suit of armor, Severus. How many people can we bring in to help us this way without Him ever finding out?”

“Avila also seems to expand itself to accommodate however many people are residing within it,” Severus continued, his tone low and almost languid as he thought about the idea Hermione had put forth.

“What are you thinking, Severus?” Hermione asked.

“Why take them to the Castle at all? Why not let them all stay here? If the House can accommodate them all, keep them here. There would be less risk of our plans coming to light prematurely that way.”

“Molly would love having more people to cook for…”

“It would also make it easier for us to get Potter here when the time comes.”

“You think he will?” Minerva asked.

“I believe Ron Weasley is… Smart enough to put our message together, though it could take him some time to work out the logistics.”

“We have until the night before the Solstice to prepare for Harry’s arrival,” Hermione murmured.

“You can’t possibly kno-”

“She does, Minerva,” Severus interrupted with a quiet murmur. “She… Knows far more than any of us realize, I think.”

“To be fair, it um… A lot of it has to do with the Strain. There are certain _fixed points_ within it, and Harry’s return - and what happens the following day - are two of them.”

“What else is fixed?” Minerva asked, obviously curious.

Hermione felt herself blushing a hint, but hoped that the lower light of Severus’ office would help hide it somewhat.

“Well, several things that have led up to now, actually, like um… Like Sirius Black dying.”

“How does Black dying fit into all of this?” Severus asked, Minerva nodding along with him.

“It was the moment that broke open Harry’s mind and emotions, made him susceptible for what was to come.”

“I’m not following,” Minerva murmured.

“We um… We _think_ tha-”

“We don’t _think_ actually-” Severus cut off. “-we know.” He shot a look at Hermione. “This is something else we shouldn’t hold back from her, Hermione.”

“...I’ll let you do the honors then.”

Severus gave Hermione a little dip of his head before turning his attention back to Minerva, taking in a deep breath as he prepared himself for what he was about to say.

“Harry Potter is a Horcrux.” He pushed on despite Minerva’s gasp of shock and disbelief. “We believe he was not made one intentionally, but he is the one that the Dark Lord is taking advantage of the most given that he can… See through Potter’s eyes.”

“So, that part about bringing Harry here…?”

“It is why Mister Weasley will need to be exceedingly cautious when the time comes so as to not tip the Dark Lord off. We have time to make the preparations on our end, obviously, but extreme caution must still be exercised.”

Minerva looked, in a word, overwhelmed. “Ho-How long have you known?”

“Known?” Hermione murmured. “Not all that long, but I’ve suspected for a while. Severus helped me put two and two together.”

“Have _you_ known for a while then?” Minerva asked, turning in her seat to more fully address the man in question.

“I’ve suspected since Potter’s dealings with the Dark Lord at the Ministry of Magic considering how easy it was for Him to invade Potter’s mind. My suspicions were… Further exacerbated when I thought back on just how difficult it was to teach the boy Occlumency that year.”

“He _did_ seem to struggle more with his emotions last year as well,” Minerva agreed, a line of concentration having taken up residence between her eyebrows. “More troubled than what I’d come to consider normal for teenagers.”

“Ron and I noticed it as well,” Hermione agreed. “Though we didn’t really talk about it much. Harry was just… Different. I think it was more of a gradual thing before, but after his birthday…”

“What happened on his birthday?” Minerva asked, though it was clear by the look in Severus’ dark gaze that he knew where she was going with this.

“...you mean you don’t know?”

“Did you ever wonder _why_ Dumbledore wanted Harry to live with the Dursleys?”

“Of course, but I fail to see what that has to do with this conversation.”

“Ancient Blood Magicks,” Severus murmured. “When Lily died, she protected the boy from the Dark Lord’s spell with her love. While the rebound is likely what caused the Dark Lord’s soul to fracture and turn Potter into a Horcrux, that _spell_ \- for lack of a better term - had to be refortified every year in order to maintain the protection. It could only be done by Harry spending time with someone who’s blood showed a kinship with the one who has cast the spell.”

“...Lily Potter…” Minerva whispered, putting it all together. “...and so when Harry came of age last year-”

“-the protection from his Aunt’s blood died.” Hermione finished with a nod of her head. “It left Harry susceptible, and we think that’s why things have gotten so much worse. It’s why Ron took Harry away, and also why he um… Why he brought me the Map later.”

“The map?”

“The _Marauder’s_ Map,” Severus drawled, barely able to hold back his sneer at the name. “Surely you remember them?”

“I thought Argus confiscated that map years ago?”

“Fred and George found it at some point-” Hermione clarified. “-and they gave it to Harry in third year. It’s how he actually clued Lupin in to Peter Pettigrew still being alive.”

“Yes, and we all know how _that_ went…” Severus muttered behind his teacup before he drained the contents.

“But, according to Ron-” Hermione went on after rolling her eyes at Severus. “-Harry was studying the Map rather intently. Ron sort of put two and two together and realized what Severus and I had, and thought it better to bring the Map here. He didn’t think it was a good idea for Harry - and therefore _Him_ \- to be studying it so much.”

“So, Mister Weasley brought it to you?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s how we discovered that Avila isn’t _on_ the Map, and partially how we also learned that we could Apparate into and out of Avila. We’re sort of outside the Wards in a weird way.”

“And you believe that _He_ was studying the Map to try and ascertain your location?”

“Indeed,” Severus agreed with a small bow of his head. “I haven’t heard anything to suggest he _has_ learned of it, but then again, I am not privy to everything the Dark Lord thinks or says.”

Something flashed through Minerva’s eyes at that just before they narrowed a hint, the next words out of her mouth sending a chill down Hermione’s spine.

“Is that a problem, Severus?”

Hermione looked over at Severus, noting the way he was rather pointedly _not_ looking at her in return.

“I am… Undecided on the matter at this time.”

“I’ve spent enough time with you over the years to interpret Slytherin, Severus-” Minerva countered, her mouth setting into a thin, grim line. “-and I don’t like what you just said in the slightest.”

“It’s part of my life now, Miner-”

“It _was_ perhaps, but you don’t answer to Dumbledore anymore. You answer to _me_ now.”

There was a deadly quiet that followed Minerva’s words, and it almost looked as though Severus was about to protest when Minerva instead continued.

“I remember the state you returned to us in after His return during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Severus, and I will _not_ allow that to happen to you again.”

“I’m of more service to you if I can continue to-”

“Are you?” She interrupted again, and Hermione wasn’t sure what to do with her hands suddenly.

“You’ve suggested - on more than one occasion, I might add - that He doesn’t trust in you the way He once did. Your position with him is more-and-more starting to look tenuous _at best_ and yet, here you are trying to argue your continuation with your duties as Spy for the Order.”

Minerva shook her head. “I can’t let you carry on like this, Severus.”

“...do you have a choice?” He quietly countered, and Hermione had to bite down hard on her lower lip to stop the sudden threat of tears in her eyes.

_All will be well, my child, never fear.  
**You always sound so sure…**_

“I _can’t_ , Seve-”

“You _must_ , Minerva. For as long as we possibly can.”

“We have two months,” Hermione quietly piped up. “Two months until the Solstice. Depending on what happens tonight… It’ll be what determines whether or not you continue to go, Severus.”

He looked sceptical at that. “...what could possibly happen tonight?”

Hermione didn’t realize that her eyes had glazed over a touch until she started to speak, her voice no longer Septima’s softer Delhi accent, but instead Isadora’s heavier Irish. “Dumbledore and Tom Riddle will be meeting at sundown to discuss the terms of release for the students still held within the Castle. This meeting will cause ripples of distress in both factions, ultimately leading to the Final Battle on the Summer Solstice.”

“...who the bloody hell was that?”

“Isadora Avila,” Severus replied for Hermione, who was still coming back into herself a bit. “She’s… A part of the Strain.”

“...the tois ay ye ur jist foo ay aw sorts ay surprises, aren’t ye?”

“We broke Minerva again,” Severus quipped with an arched eyebrow, earning him a rude hand gesture from the witch in question, though both she and Hermione were smiling at the teasing.

Minerva cleared her throat before continuing, her accent still a bit thick, but at least she was easier to understand again.

“So, something _big_ is gonna happen tonight, is what you’re trying t’tell me? How big?”

Hermione thought back to her earlier revelation, and was about to open her mouth to answer, though apparently the look on her face said more than words could.

“It’s something bad, I take it,” Severus murmured, his eyes narrowing a hint. “...you said something earlier, didn’t you? About tonight…”

“I-I did, yes…”

She hadn’t put it together before, but now… Now it would be impossible not to.

There was a knock on the door, though, once more interrupting her from answering, and Severus sneered just a hint before he got to his feet and went to open the door.

Dumbledore was on the other side.

“I have come to ask permission to return to the Castle and to set up a meeting with Tom for this evening in regards to getting the children out as safely as possible.”

Minerva pushed herself up out of her chair, carefully folding her hands in front of her as she gave Dumbledore a long, hard, look.

“I would like to go over what you are going to discuss with him before you go, and just what exactly it is that you’re going to offer him in exchange. Miss Granger will _not_ be that offer, am I clear, Albus?”

“Yes, Minerva.”

Hermione pushed herself to her feet, excusing herself and saying that she needed to stretch her legs a bit, and she was surprised when Severus moved to join her.

“Minerva can handle herself,” He murmured once they were on the other side of the closed door again, slowly making their way towards the kitchen in search of more tea. “And she knows our plan and how to steer Albus into delivering it as well.”

“Do you think He’ll accept it?”

Severus gave a faint shake of his head. “I’m not sure, if we’re being honest. I know that I will need to be on alert this evening, that much is for certain.”

“In case you’re summoned, you mean?”

A single nod was his only answer.

Hermione winced, looking away from him as she moved to start busying herself with the kettle, thankful that Molly seemed to have abandoned her post for a moment and the two of them were alone for the time being.

“...you’ve seen the future, haven’t you?” His voice was hardly more than a whisper, spoken from right behind her, and when she turned around it was to find him standing just a hair's breadth away.

“...I’ve seen _multiple_ futures, actually.”

“Am I… Not present? In any of them?”

She blinked, brow furrowing together some. “Well, no, but-”

“Then you needn’t worry, should you?”

There was a ghost of a touch of his fingers brushing against hers before it was gone again, and Hermione heaved a sigh.

“I’m allowed to worry about you, you know.”

“I know. And I… Appreciate it, I suppose is the word.” He quirked an eyebrow up at the admission. “But tonight will not be my end.”

_**No… Not yours. That’s for certain…** _

The kettle started to whistle, though, pulling her from her thoughts and causing Severus to take a step back, and by the time Hermione had finished preparing their teas, he’d retreated to take a seat at the table.

And Molly was coming in to join them.

Their conversation immediately ended, and it wasn’t long before Dumbledore and Minerva were coming back out of Severus’ office to announce “Dumbledore’s” plan, the old wizard holding up a hand to stop any dissent before it could get started.

He didn’t say much, thankfully, and it wasn’t long before Molly was announcing dinner, the group sitting around the table and quietly talking as they all did their best not to focus on the evening to come.

Hermione was quieter than usual, but - then again - she knew something the rest of them didn’t, didn’t she?

If she grew more visibly anxious as dusk approached, no one made mention of it, and thankfully she wasn’t the only one with a concerned look on her features when Severus suddenly hissed and clutched his left arm.

Moody growled something unfavorable, but Minerva stepped up and took Severus by the upper arms, giving them a squeeze as she looked him square in the eyes.

“You come back to us, Severus Snape. Do you hear me?”

He gave her a single nod before turning and making his way towards his office, disappearing quickly enough and Hermione did her best to close herself off to make sure no one noticed her growing anxiety.

Perhaps Lupin was staring at her a little pointedly, but everyone else seemed to be either looking at Dumbledore or Minerva.

“We have thirty minutes until my meeting with Tom.” Dumbledore broke the silence a moment later. “I should begin making my way back to the castle.”

“I’ll go with you,” Moody grunted, but Dumbledore held up his hand again.

“The agreement was that we meet alone out on the Quidditch pi-”

“Do you _really_ think he’ll come alone, Albus?” Moody argued. “Wouldn’t it be better to have back up?”

“Whether he does or not is no matter. _I_ must hold up my end of the bargain. Should any of you choose to come to the Castle with me, I ask that you stay there. Watch from the parpets if you must, but do not seek to interfere. What will happen will happen.”

_**...it’s almost like Dumbledore knows what’s about to happen, too.**  
Perhaps he does, my child.  
Bit unsettling, that.  
**...is he going to make a fucking**_ **martyr _of himself??_**

But there was movement around her, and Hermione was pulled from her internal conversation to note that a few people had gathered around the former Headmaster in what was likely supposed to be a small show of solidarity.

Which was odd, considering the lack of it that had been shown to him earlier, but this was a slightly different situation, wasn’t it?

And, slowly, Hermione stepped forward as well, somehow sensing that she was meant to witness what was about to happen, and she briefly caught eyes with Minerva, giving her a small nod before the Headmistress straightened her spine and turned to address the gathered group.

“In respect with Albus’ wishes, we will gather in the Astronomy Tower to watch the meeting between Albus and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the Quidditch pitch. It should be close enough that we can see what is taking place without being so close as to counter the deal Albus made with Him.”

She looked around the room to see if anyone objected and, when no one did, gave a nod and turned to start making her way towards Severus’ office, the command for them to follow her very clearly understood despite it not having been verbally given.

The group - consisting of Moody, Lupin, Tonks and Arthur Weasley (besides Albus, Minerva and Hermione/Septima, of course) - were taken up to the Castle by Draco, who agreed to stand guard at the suit of armor so that they could all be readmitted later when the time came, and were all silent as they made their ways to their designated spots.

Moody was to the top of the tower first, immediately on the lookout for signs of Death Eaters, and he didn’t have to look far considering the Quidditch Pitch was where Voldemort and his followers had taken up residence.

Dumbledore was easy enough to see as he made his way out, his bright blue robes standing out against the darkness around him, and the group watched as Voldemort himself slowly strode forward to meet him.

They must’ve both cast Sonorous spells onto their vocal chords, because the following conversation was easy enough to hear for everyone who wanted to hear it.

Hermione briefly wondered if those gathered in the Great Hall could hear it as well, but thought it best not to dwell on it.

_”So, you came, Dumbledore…” Voldemort hissed._

_“I gave my word a long time ago to protect this school and those therein, Tom-” Dumbledore replied. “-I’ve failed for long enough, but not tonight.”_

_“You’ve come to give me what I want then? You will give me the Mudblood girl? And the school?”_

_“If you will promise to allow the children inside safe passage away from the school, I will turn the castle over to you on the night of the Summer Solstice.”_

_“That’s not-!”_

_“We need time to properly dismantle the Wards, Tom. Time to turn the Castle over to you. That can not happen overnight. We can move the process along faster once the children are safely away, but not until then, and the process can only be rushed so quickly.”_

_Voldemort was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking it over._

_“...and the girl?”_

_“That which you seek is not within her, Tom. We have been unable to coax it from her or track it to anyone else since she fell into the state she is currently in. There is no sense in giving you a shell.”_

_“How can I be assured you are telling me the truth, old man?”_

_“What reason do I have to withhold it from you now, Tom? I come before you, wandless, with only my truth to protect me. Hermione Granger does not have the Strain, and therefore, there is no reason why you should have Hermione Granger.”_

_Another figure, all in black, slowly moved forward from behind Voldemort, and despite the hint of a limp, Hermione recognized Severus from her vantage point, and her heart leapt into her throat when she realized he was injured._

_“...Severus?” Voldemort hissed, turning his head a fraction to look at the other man._

_“Dumbledore speaks true, my Lord,” Severus drawled, bowing his head. “I have… Examined the girl myself. Just today, in fact…”_

_“And the Ophiuchus Strain?”_

_“It has vanished, my Lord. There’s no trace of it within the chit.”_

__ Well that’s a hell of a pet name  
**Shut it, Septima.**

Voldemort let out a dissatisfied noise at that, sort of like a whining hiss, and Hermione winced at the sound of it, though she wasn’t the only one to gasp when she saw Voldemort turn towards Severus with his wand raised.

_“You’ve done well in telling me this, Severus, but… It is not the answer I wanted. Crucio!”_

Severus, to his credit, merely fell to his knees and didn’t seem to let out any sound, and Hermione realized only a long moment later that Minerva had come close to take her hand in hers when Hermione tried to lift it to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

Voldemort turned back around to face Dumbledore then, his wand still half-raised as he took in the old man before him.

 _“If you won’t give me the girl then what_ will _you give me, Dumbledore?”_

_“Whatever it is that you want that will guarantee the students be let go, Tom.”_

_“Whatever I want?” Voldemort giggled. “Oh, but you_ are _getting desperate, aren’t you, old man?”_

And, he raised his wand again, and uttered the two words Hermione knew were coming.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

And with a flash of green light, Albus Dumbledore was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs a McGonagall translation, let me know!
> 
> Y'all know what to do :P


	38. Chapter 37: Mint Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mint is good for the nerves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely, _terribly_ sorry about the delay in getting this chapter to you! Real Life is a bitch right now, and unfortunately this got put on hold. I've already started the next chapter, however, so hopefully it won't be as long between updates!

What followed after that flash of green light lit everything up could only best be described as _chaotic_.

Hermione was vaguely aware of being pulled back inside, but that was only because she lost sight of the unmoving shape of Severus’ body lying on the ground, her heart clenching in fear despite all the evidence that Isadora tried to give her that he was going to be just fine.

And losing sight of him, knowing that the Dark Mark still flew over Hogwarts, knowing that Albus Dumbledore was dead at Voldemort’s feet and was thus one step further to reaching his goal, well... 

But she didn’t have time to panic, did she? There was too much at stake, and she knew it. Probably better than anyone did, in all honesty.

She was vaguely aware of Moody shouting something that suspiciously sounded like orders, but it was easier to focus on Minerva when the older woman stepped up, throwing up a hand to silence the Auror as she calmly reminded him that, actually, _she_ was in charge, wasn’t she?

“If we panic, we run the risk of losing the castle, Alastor, and I will _not_ have that on my conscience. I want you and Remus to pair up with Molly and Arthur. Begin coordinating the evacuation of the students. _He_ agreed that he wouldn’t harm the children, and we’re going to hold him to his word.”

“And Granger?” Moody growled, crossing his arms over his chest and focusing his good eye on the Headmistress while the other spun about madly in his head.

“I’m not giving her to him under any circumstances.”

“...maybe you don’t have to.” Hermione suddenly murmured, an idea having dawned on her. Or, perhaps more accurately, she remembered something.

“...Septima?”

“We’ve probably got a few ghouls lingering about, haven’t we? Could we Transfigure one of them? Make it look like Granger?”

It had been one of Ron’s weirder ideas when the talk of running away to chase Horcruxes came up, but now that Hermione thought about it…

“...I’ll need to brush up on some of my glamour spells to recreate Miss Granger’s hair, but yes, I think it can be done.”

“Let me know if you need help. Her hair looks like it would be, well… A _lot_.”

Hermione didn’t miss the small wink Minerva tossed her way, and Hermione was thankful that she’d made the decision to tell Minerva the truth about her current situation.

Which reminded her.

“Minerva?” She called out, stumbling forward slightly as she stopped the Headmistress from dashing off right away.

“Yes, dear?”

“...what about Severus?” Hermione asked, voice hardly more than a whisper, her words clearly meant for Minerva’s ears alone.

“He’ll make it back to us, I’m sure, but you’ll want to be there for him. I’ve never been allowed to be present when he’s returned from those revels, but… Poppy isn’t always good at keeping a secret.”

Hermione could feel herself paling with the information, but she grit her teeth and gave a nod of understanding.

“Do you think he’ll go back to Avila?”

“He’ll likely come back to the castle first, fetch some potions from the hospital ward’s stash, but I don’t think it would be remiss of you to be there in his chambers when he returned to them, since that _is_ what I believe you’re asking me, is it not?”

Hermione gave a nod, biting down gently on her lower lip in thought as she started making her way back towards the suit of armor in front of Dumbledore’s - now Minerva’s - office, hoping that Draco would still be there to let her in.

She was contemplating what sorts of things she could do to perhaps help Severus, but found herself drawing something of a blank. Sure, she knew _in theory_ what sort of effects the Cruciatus curse had on a body - and she knew about some of the more extreme effects as well - but every body was a little bit different, wasn’t it? And therefore, by that supposition, it was likely safe to assume that every _one_ reacted to the curse a bit differently.

She’d arrived at the suit of armor before she’d really realized it, and blinked in shock as she took in her surroundings, noting that Draco had come closer to her with a concerned expression, even going so far as to gently rest a hand on her shoulder as he asked her if she was all right.

“...Dumbledore is dead.”

It felt… Strange to say it. She’d seen it happen, and yet… It didn’t entirely feel real, did it?

“Dumbledore’s _dead_?” Draco asked, his pale eyebrows drawing close in concern.

Hermione nodded. “ _He_ killed him for refusing to give up Hermione. Perhaps as a sort of trade off? I’m not sure…”

“I think you’re in shock, Professor.”

“I’m more worried about Severus,” She admitted with a shake of her head. “He had a Cruciatus cast on him an-”

“I’ll get you back into Avila, Professor,” Draco quietly interrupted, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re um… You’re probably wanting to get back down there so you can help him when he returns, yeah?”

Hermione shot Draco a curious look. “...is it that obvious?”

The blond shrugged. “I see the way you two look at each other. Not everyone would catch it, most likely, but you aren’t a Slytherin, so it’s a little more obvious when you’re staring at him.”

“...oh…”

“It’s funny though…” Draco chuckled as they started the descent into the darkness that would take them back to Avila. “...before you started coming around Avila more, I never would’ve pegged the two of you as compatible.”

Hermione heard Septima snicker inside her head - and that might’ve even been a chuckle from Isadora as well - and she was thankful for the darker lighting that hid her blush once they emerged from the darkness and arrived back in Severus’ office.

“Draco? If you see him…”

“I’ll let him know you’re here, Professor, don’t worry. He’s likely going to be a bit jumpy, and I’d hate for him to hex you because you accidentally startled him.”

Hermione gave him a small smile and thanked him, watching as he turned to head back up the stairs before she turned and made her way towards the Avila kitchen to make some tea.

Something soothing, she thought… Chamomile, perhaps? No, not chamomile…

Mint. _That_ was what she needed. Good for headaches, could help settle any stomach issues, it was an anti-spasmodic…

Making quick work of getting the kettle on, she fetched a few cups worth of tea to take with her back to Severus’ chambers, figuring that if he wasn’t able to eat - which was still to be determined, obviously - at least he’d be ingesting _something_ , which was always better than nothing.

Hovering the tray along beside her as she hobbled her way back to his chambers, she was glad to note that no one else seemed to be around - most likely everyone was either still at the Castle coordinating evacuation efforts or sleeping, given the later hour - and thus didn’t see her making her trek.

Once she made it into his office, Hermione slowly made her way towards the barrier that would lead her into Severus quarters, holding her breath until she was on the other side and standing in his living space, silently thankful that his personal wards had recognized her and allowed her in.

She wasn’t sure what to make of that level of trust, actually, but she wasn’t going to put too much thought into it if she could help it. Not yet, at any rate.

Instead, she went about setting out the tea - making sure to place a warming charm on it to keep it from going cold - though she wasn’t really sure if she should do anything else.

Would he want to go straight to bed and rest? Would he be able to make it that far? Should she conjure up some pillows and a blanket for him so he could rest on the couch, or would that be too much?

At any rate, she stoked the fire a bit, hoping to warm the room a bit further, as she was sure she wasn’t the only one that would be appreciative of it.

And then she looked at the clock and realized it had been all of about five minutes, and honestly, how exactly was she supposed to be patient and calm while she waited? It could be… It could be _hours_ before he returned, couldn’t it?

Septima and Isadora were trying their hardest to comfort her, but to little avail, and eventually settled into their own private conversation that they partially blocked off from Hermione, mostly in an effort to keep her from stressing out about yet another thing.

Hermione instead turned her attentions towards Severus’ numerous bookcases, idly perusing them as she worried her lower lip between her teeth, resisting the urge to run her fingers over the spines of those books as she remembered what Severus had told her the first time she’d seen them.

“Be careful, as some of those touch back.”

No, that hadn’t been quite what he’d sai-

She whirled around as she realized it was _actually_ him speaking, taking a faltering step towards him, though she paused again as she took him in.

“...you’re back.”

“I am,” He agreed with a small nod, grimacing as he took a step further into the room, prompting Hermione to move closer to him again, gently reaching out a hand towards him in offering.

“What can I do?”

“I need to lie down.”

She gave a nod at that, moving closer still until she could offer him an arm so she could help guide him towards the sofa - he seemed keen on getting to there, at least - holding him steady as best as she could as he lowered himself down onto it, though he didn’t immediately move to lay down.

Instead, he sort of… Melted into his seat, leaning his head back until it rested against the back of the couch, his eyes sliding closed as he carefully folded his hands in his lap.

Hermione took a moment to study him - again, sort of blown away by the amount of trust he was putting in her to allow her to see him like this - taking in the hint of a frown line between his eyebrows, the tension in his jaw that suggested he was clenching his teeth a bit, the way his hands were fisted a hint…

Slowly, she moved to take a seat beside him, letting out a slow breath when he didn’t move away from her before lifting a hand to gently trace a finger down the long, slightly crooked line of his nose.

He jumped with the contact and she immediately withdrew, blushing heavily as she stammered out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Severus, I-I jus-”

“-I should be the one apologizing,” He muttered, quietly cutting her off. “I am… Not used to being touched, especially in circumstances such as these.”

“...I was afraid I’d hurt you.”

“On the contrary-” He gently shook his head. “-that… felt quite nice, actually. Given how much everything else hurts…”

“Do you need something?” Hermione made as if to get to her feet, already preparing herself to fetch whatever he asked for, but he reached out a hand - one she realized was trembling a bit - to take a hold of her wrist, staying her movements.

“Your presence is more than enough, Hermione.”

She relaxed just a hint, but didn’t move closer to him just yet, instead lifting a hand to rest over his, wincing when she saw him flinch at the contact again, though his features relaxed again a moment later.

“I… Would not be _opposed_ if you wished to recommence what you were doing a moment ago,” He murmured after a minute or so of silence, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not when she felt his fingers gently squeeze her arm.

She gave a quiet agreement before she slowly shifted closer to him, more or less curling up against his side as she lifted her free hand and wrapped it around his head, encouraging him to rest his head on her arm to hold him closer to her as her fingers once more began tracing the contours of his features in a feather-light caress.

He let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, his eyes having drifted shut the moment he settled his head on her arm, and Hermione was thankful that she was allowed to study his features at length while she did this.

How had she never noticed his long eyelashes before? Or that small scar just above his left eyebrow? She’d noticed the crooked line of his nose of course, but tracing that line with her finger now… She wondered how many times it had been broken and reset.

Her fingers grazed over the hint of stubble along his jaw, hearing the faint rasp as her nails caught against it before she moved her fingers up to trace around his lips, noting the way they parted slightly and he let out a soft gasp.

This time, she knew she wasn’t imagining it when his fingers tightened their hold on her arm, and she wasn’t aware of having shifted still-closer to him until her lips were pressed against his temple and she felt him turn his head into the contact.

“Hermione…”

“Is this okay, too?”

He gave a faint nod of his head. “...exquisitely so.”

“...what else can I do?”

She could almost hear his internal debate - and figured she could safely assume that it largely reflected her own at that moment - before he pulled back just a hint so he could open his eyes and peer up at her.

_Merlin_ , but she could get lost in those eyes…

“Under a different set of circumstances-” He finally whispered after a long pause for contemplation. “-I would likely ask if you would come to bed with me.”

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in a fiery blush, and whatever Septima and Isadora had been talking about immediately came to a halt as they took in what was happening.

“Severus, I-”

He shook his head, squeezing her arm again to stop her and allow him the chance to continue.

“I don’t mean for… Amorous activities, Hermione. Not in the sense that you’re probably thinking.”

“Oh.”

_...oh…_ __  
...oh…  
...but what does he mean by that?? 

“But what-?”

“Your touch is… Soothing, and I would… I would quite like to know if it would be as soothing if you were to simply touch me elsewhere.”

Hermione wasn’t the only one blushing, and a faint smile was tugging at the corners of her lips as she took in the hints of pink on Severus’ pale cheeks.

“It’s easing the tremors in my limbs, and helping me to focus on my breathing which is easing the pain behind my eyes.” He sighed. “I’m afraid there’s not much that can be done for my stomach, however.”

“...I _did_ bring some mint tea, if you wanted to give it a try? Won’t take but a minute for it to brew…”

“Mint?”

“I’ve read that it’s good for queasiness and headaches, and it’s an anti-spasmodic, you know…”

He nodded. “I am aware…” But he didn’t give a yea or nay, instead falling silent again for a long moment as he merely looked at her, and Hermione noticed that he seemed particularly focused on _her_ eye.

“Severus?”

“...I want to ask you to stay, but we both know why I can’t and why you shouldn’t.”

“Are you asking me to go instead?”

“No.” The answer was quick and sure, and Hermione silently watched as Severus slowly pulled himself back into a fully-upright position before reaching to take a hold of her hands in his.

“I am leaving the decision in your hands, Hermione. I… Want you to stay, even if just to keep me company for a bit, but I _will_ need to retire to a bed. Soon. And if you stay, I… I _will_ ask you to _stay_.”

“...and if I did? Stay I mean…”

“Septima can remain assured that I have no desire for her body.”

_But? I feel a but coming…_

“But?”

His eyes dropped away from hers then to study their joined hands, and Hermione squeezed them to prompt him to continue.

“...but… when my eyes are closed, it’s easier for me to imagine that it’s _you_ sitting here next to me, Hermione. Alone, in a bed, well… You can imagine the dangers that could present themselves.”

Hermione let out a soft sigh at that, giving a nod of understanding and agreement. “I do, yes.”

Maybe her reply was why she felt Severus stiffen in surprise when she suddenly leaned forward again, her lips finding purchase against his jawline, lingering for a long moment before she pulled back just enough so that she could shift and kiss the bridge of his nose as well.

Her lips lingered against his skin as she continued to speak, and she had a feeling that the little tremors running through him now weren’t entirely because of the after-effects of the curse he’d been subjected to.

“I want to stay and help, Severus… In whatever relatively-safe capacity that I can… If that means just pouring you tea… And helping you to bed… I will. If that means… touching you as you need… as I can… until you fall asleep, I will.”

“Hermione…” He breathed again, her name almost like a prayer on his lips, and she felt him drop one of her hands in favor of lifting it to cradle the back of her head, keeping her close as she continued to press delicate kisses to his skin.

“Tell me what you need, Severus.”

“ _You_.”

And then his mouth was over hers, both of them gasping at the contact and deepening the kiss, moving closer together as arms wrapped around torsos and bodies pressed closer, and it was all Hermione could do not to push him over onto his back or - perhaps more pressingly - lay back herself and let him climb over her.

The kiss ended rather abruptly, however, when Severus suddenly pulled back with a hiss, his right hand pulling out of the hair it had been tangling itself in to clap down over his left forearm, and Hermione couldn’t stop the tears that came to her eyes when she realized what it meant.

“He _can’t_ , Severus-”

“I assure you he can and he is.” He grit out, his teeth clenched tight as he fought against the renewed burning sensation coursing through him.

“You can’t go back.”

“I must.”

“And if you didn’t? Do we _really_ still need a spy right now, Severus? You’ve got me a-and Isadora and the _Strain_ -”

“Hermione-”

“A-and you said it yourself! Earlier today to Minerva! He… He isn’t telling you things anymore, Severus. What if he suspects?”

“Hermi-”

“No, Severus! I mean it! I can’t just le-”

But Severus was pushing himself to his feet suddenly, letting out a low growl as his grip on his left arm tightened.

“I can’t debate this with you right now, Hermione. I need to go.”

But he was stumbling slightly, his limbs still weak, and Hermione wanted to cry from suddenly feeling so helpless.

“...te-tell him you might’ve been wrong about your earlier assessment of my mind! That there might be something there. Tha-that you can possibly sneak my body away without Minerva o-or anyone else realizing it!”

He spun around to look at her, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what it was that she was trying to tell him.

“...I’m not following.”

“W-We can transfigure a ghoul to look like me. Give it to him. I-It would put you back in his good graces long enough for you to make a proper escape!”

“Hermione-”

“Just… Just _try_ it, Severus, please!” She begged as she shakily got to her own feet, stumbling towards him as she reached out towards him once more. “T-Tell him you couldn’t try it before because Dumbledore would’ve noticed, but it’s easier now.”

His eyes were still narrowed at her, but Hermione could see the gears turning, could see the assessments he was making as those eyes roved over her features.

“...it would put a doubt into his mind about Minerva, for certain. Make him think he can outwit her, not realizing she’ll be a more-formidable force to contend with than Dumbledore was…”

“A-And if we do the transfiguration right, it could take him a while to notice and give you more time in his good graces to collect more information.”

Suddenly, Severus’ mouth was on hers again, his hands cupping her face as he pressed a near-bruisingly-strong kiss to her lips, though it ended almost as soon as it began.

But he stayed close, didn’t he?

“I’m afraid I will have to take a raincheck on hearing the rest of your answer about this evening’s activities. But I… I look forward to hearing it soon.”

And before she could say another word, Severus had turned and left, somehow collecting himself enough that he wasn’t limping any longer as he left her standing alone in his chambers with unbrewed tea and a heart rate too high to count.

But, at least this meant he was going to come back to her, right?

Isadora was murmuring yes, and that - for now, at least - was enough for Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a cliffhanger but sort of not? Idk y'all...
> 
> At any rate, y'all know what to do if you want to yell :P


	39. Chapter 38: Ghoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is put into place... And maybe another one as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize _deeply_ for the delay in this chapter. Real Life has been a _lot_ lately, and this sort of fell to the wayside. I hope the length makes up for a bit, though!

Hermione eventually made it back to her own quarters, curious to note that no one else seemed to have returned from the castle yet, and she idly wondered if perhaps she should’ve been there to help with the evacuations, but when she arose again the next morning and made her way out to the Common Room, it was to find that she was probably overthinking things a bit.

It seemed that people had been in mourning over the loss of their beloved Headmaster, if the red eyes and handkerchiefs present were any indication - the open bottle of firewhiskey on the table certainly didn’t hurt either - and she sighed when she saw Remus approaching her carrying a fresh glass.

“Good morning, Septima.”

“Remus.” She gave a little cursory nod of her head, quietly thanking him for the glass as he handed it over, though she made no move to drink just yet.

He dropped his voice even lower as he stepped closer still, his words clearly meant for her ears alone. “...was Severus Summoned again last night?”

She nodded. “He was.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. H-Has he not returned yet?”

The question was answered for her when the door to Severus’ office swung open, presenting the image of a slightly-disheveled Potions Master standing there, half-propping himself up against the doorframe as he looked out over the assembled crowd.

“Minerva?” He rumbled, looking straight at the witch in question. “A word, if you please.”

Minerva gave him a nod and immediately made her way over to meet him, and Hermione let out a slightly-pained sigh as she watched the door close behind them.

“I’m sure you’ll know what’s going on soon enough,” Remus quietly spoke, his words comforting for all that Hermione drew no comfort from them.

She made a small noise of agreement low in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else in favor of lifting her glass to her lips and taking a hesitant sip.

Maybe it was a bit early to start drinking already, but the fiery edge of the drink could perhaps warm her bones a bit, and she was always ready for that these days it seemed.

And there seemed to be more of a chill lingering in her bones than usual that morning, and Hermione couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Ivan was just around the corner, waiting for her… Ready to pounce once more…

She took another sip of her firewhiskey and started making her way towards the kitchen, figuring that if she was going to drink, maybe she could add it to her coffee.

As it turned out, none of them would have to wait long to find out what Severus had wanted to speak to Minerva about when the two of them emerged from his office just a short moment after Hermione had finished messing with her coffee and gotten it to a point that Septima’s taste buds could agree with.

“I’d like to speak with all of you,” Minerva announced as she moved towards the center of the room, her hands carefully folded in front of her. “Particularly in regards to what happened last night and how we will advance going forward. If you all would please take a seat so we may begin?”

Everyone took a seat so Minerva could start, and she was quick to make her remarks on Dumbledore’s passing and how it could potentially - or not - affect them, but she was also quick to mention that this wasn’t the time to properly mourn.

“Mourn in private if you must-” She said. “-but when we are here, gathered as a group, I ask that you all maintain the strict professionalism with which I know you can work.”

Which was how she launched into her idea for giving Voldemort what he wanted without actually giving it to him.

“We’re going to _what?!_ ” Molly scoffed, clearly voicing aloud nearly everyone else’s opinion on the subject, and Hermione felt a little disheartened that maybe the idea wouldn’t work.

“There are a fair few ghouls in the Castle-” Severus murmured. “And between the lot of us, I would imagine that we’d be skilled enough in Transfiguration to adequately turn one into Miss Granger.”

“It’ll never work, Seve-” Molly started to counter-

-until Draco cut her off.

“My apologies, Missus Weasley, but I think we need to give this idea some merit. The Dark Lord is going to look at this as though Yule has come early.”

“It’s a barking mad idea-!” Moody started to argue.

“Yes it is,” Minerva interrupted. “Which is exactly why we should and _are_ going to try it.”

A few different people started to chime in at that, but Minerva was on her feet in an instant, immediately reclaiming the floor that they had threatened to take from her.

“Do my ears deceive me, or are you all questioning _my_ Transfiguration abilities?”

Hermione barely held back the smirk at the sudden silence that filled the room at Minerva’s question. Severus didn’t bother hiding his.

“Who came up with the idea?” Moody asked.

“I did,” Hermione replied, sitting up a touch straighter in her chair. “We’re here in Avila, aren’t we? Time we all start thinking like Avilians, isn’t it?”

“He’ll never fall for i-”

“Are you quite certain of that, Alastor?” Minerva asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she leveled her most serious gaze at him. “Because unless you’re privy to what’s going on inside His mind, I think it best that you allow us to try something new.”

“But the old ways-”

“The old ways weren’t getting us anywhere, were they?” Minerva interrupted Moody again. “I’m _tired_ Alastor. We all are. It’s time to _end this_ and do it correctly. Doing things the old way will only prolong this whole ordeal, and I’m tired of risking lives and losing good people because ‘it’s tradition’.”

Moody grumbled something under his breath before falling silent again, giving Minerva the opportunity to look around to see if anyone else had anything to say on the subject.

“Remus?”

“Ma’am?”

“I would like for you and Filius to work on capturing a ghoul. I believe there’s still one living up around the Astronomy Tower. Capture it and get it to my office. We’ll do the Transfiguration there.”

“What about getting the children out?” Molly asked.

“Severus and I have come up with a plan there as well,” Minerva explained. “Severus will take the proposal to Him this evening - along with the plan to turn over “Hermione” - and, if all things go accordingly, we’ll begin at first light tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t give us much time to capture _and_ Transfigure a ghoul, Minerva,” Remus murmured, leaning forward onto his elbows a bit. “And we’ll need to be extra careful that we aren’t seen by any students while all of this is happening.”

“Students shouldn’t be outside of the Great Hall anyway,” Minerva countered. “But I’ll see to it that you’re unseen while working as best as I can.”

Remus gave a nod of thanks, falling silent again as he shared a look with Flitwick.

“Are there any more questions?” Minerva asked, looking about the room again, and it almost looked as if there wouldn’t be when Ginny suddenly piped up from her seat between her mother and Draco.

“What do we do about the remaining Horcruxes, ma’am? How are we going to identify them and destroy them without letting _Him_ know?”

Minerva looked taken aback by the question - as did a fair few number of other people seated about the table - but Ginny pressed on.

“It’s possible that He won’t be aware of the first few that were destroyed. He hadn’t come back to power yet when we killed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets… I-I don’t know for sure, obviously, but that break in at the Ministry a few months back… I think it was the boys stealing another one. Umbridge said the only thing missing was that locket, yeah?”

“What locket?” Draco asked.

“There was a picture of it in the _Prophet_ that ran with the story,” Molly answered, brow furrowed in thought as she tried to recall the memory. “Big gaudy thing, I thought though. Had an ‘S’ on it, I think?”

“... _Slytherin’s_ locket, you mean?” Draco scoffed. “How’d Umbridge get her filthy hands on it?”

“Slytherin’s locket?” Minerva asked.

“I had thought that was just an old legend of Slytherin House,” Severus drawled, quirking an eyebrow up at Draco. “What do you know?”

“My father talked about it on occasion. Claimed he’d even seen it once, but Aunty Bella said he was daft. Now, though… I wonder.”

“That’s two Horcruxes your father has been involved with now, Draco,” Severus murmured. “Do you think there might be more?”

The blond shrugged. “Hard to say, really. Mum didn’t like him talking about it around me, but things did occasionally slip through.”

“Well, we can’t make any sort of plan for destroying them if we don’t know what they are,” Remus spoke up.

“Destroying them is easy if you have the right tools,” Severus countered. “Potter killed the diary horcrux with a Basilisk fang. I would imagine another would suffice…”

“Fiendfyre might work as well,” Remus agreed. “You’ll need something powerful, for sure.”

“But, again,” Ginny returned to the conversation. “It doesn’t do us any good to talk about _how_ we’re going to get rid of them if we don’t know what they are or how many there are.”

“...six” Draco and Severus quietly muttered at the same time.

“Pardon?”

“Six,” Severus went on after getting a nod from Draco. “It’s one of the most magically powerful numbers in our usage, and one the Dark Lord is keenly invested in. If he created six, that would mean that there were _seven_ versions of him walking about.”

“Well, six, still,” Ginny muttered. “On account of the Diary being dead now, and we don’t know the current state of the locket.”

_**But then there’s Harry…**_ Hermione thought, though she kept that thought to herself for the time being, figuring it was best to keep that from becoming public knowledge just yet.

The time would come soon enough, after all…

The next several hours were spent theorizing and hypothesizing and planning, and Hermione thought that perhaps they were onto something when Draco made a comment about Slytherin’s locket being important.

“It’s just that, as my father always mentioned, Hogwarts was important to the Dark Lord. It’s why he’s always been so keen on coming back here.”

“So, by that logic-” Hermione agreed, nodding along as she started to catch the thread that Draco was pulling on. “-it’s probably safe to assume that other House Artifacts could be important to him as well?”

_Rowena’s diadem… Helga’s cup… I wouldn’t think Godric’s sword, though._  
 **Are these things still here in the castle?**  
The diadem, perhaps. I couldn’t tell you about the cup, however. 

“I think at this point,” Draco further agreed with a nod of his own. “Any idea is better than no idea.”

“But what are they?” Ginny asked, and it was at that moment that Hermione realized that - despite the fact that they were all sitting in the Avila common room - nearly everyone present was either a former Gryffindor or a Slytherin.

_ I’m not. I was a Ravenclaw, remember? _

“There’s an old story…” Hermione carefully started, detailing the story for the others as Septima and Isadora - detailed it to her. “...about a lost diadem that once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. It was said to be a powerful magical object that… That could make the wearer wiser.”

“How did it become lost?” Draco asked, and Hermione glanced up to notice that more than a few sets of eyes had settled on her, listening to her speak.

“Her daughter stole it… She was jealous, I think? O-of her mother’s power?”

“...her _daughter_?” Minerva asked, an eyebrow arching. “You mean the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw tower might possibly know where it is?”

“The Grey Lady is Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter?” Draco sputtered.

_Such a sad story…_

“It’s not a happy story,” Minerva sighed, giving a faint shake of her head. “And one I’d rather not talk about right now if it’s all the same to you. But if it’s a viable way to get information, I’ll see what I can do about talking with her.”

“Perhaps I could, ma’am?” Draco offered, sitting up a touch straighter in his seat. “I’ve… Had talks with her before. She might be open to talking with me again.”

Minerva narrowed her eyes slightly at the blond but gave a nod of agreement all the same. “Very well. See what you can do. We’ve got some time left until we need to make sure all of the Horcruxes are destroyed, so if it takes you more than one try to get the information out of her, so be it.”

“So… If Slytherin’s locket is a Horcrux-” Ginny started to muse. “-and this diadem is one as well, what else? Did Hufflepuff have an artifact?”

“A cup.” Hermione answered, unable to stop herself, blushing slightly when several heads turned to stare at her again. “I-I dated a Hufflepuff girl for a while. She mentioned it in passing once as being some great relic of their House’s…”

Hermione ignored the smirk on Severus’ face, knowing that he knew how she’d likely just come up with that particular answer.

She mentally shot him the bird, almost hoping that he was reading her mind and could see it, though she knew he wouldn’t do that uninvited.

“...so… this _cup_ ,” Ginny went on, glancing around at everyone else at the table. “If it’s also a Horcrux, we’d need to find it as well.”

“Oh, bullocks,” Draco suddenly muttered under his breath.

“Mister Malfoy?” Minerva asked.

“...I think I’ve seen that, too.”

“Where could you have possibly see-”

“My Aunt Bella, ma’am.” Draco heaved another sigh before continuing. “The Dark Lord has been staying at my family manor for the past year or so now. Aunt Bella has _also_ moved in, and… does whatever she can to please him. I’ve overheard some… Conversations. I think she’s hidden something away for him in her vault in Gringott’s.”

“And you think it’s the cup?”

“I don’t know what else it _could_ be, ma’am. It would make sense why he would be so protective over it. Who else could gain access to it in _her_ vault?”

“That poses a problem, doesn’t it?” Arthur murmured from his seat to Draco’s left. “The banks aren’t susceptible to search and seizure orders the same way a private property is. Too many clauses and loopholes that the Goblins can get around. You’d have to have Bellatrix Lestrange herself walk in there and get it for you, _or_ a relative with a signed and certified death certificate.”

“...you mean like her sister?” Draco carefully offered.

“What exactly are you suggesting, Draco?” Arthur asked, looking a bit like Christmas might’ve come early for him.

Hermione noted that Moody, too, looked a touch excited all of a sudden.

“Well, documents are easy enough to forge, are they not? And my mother is… looking for a way out, as it were. Having her escorted into Gringott’s with an Auror with orders to get into my Aunt’s vault, well… Who knows what all else you lot could find in there. And who would be paying attention to a measly little cup or if it went missing?”

“I thought Slytherins protected their own?” Moody harrumphed from his seat, both of his eyes narrowing at Draco.

“Who says I’m not?” Draco shot back with a sneer, and _oh_ how Hermione just wanted to hug him.

“If you can find a way to discuss it with your mother, Draco-” Minerva quietly interrupted, shooting a look at Moody to silence him. “-please do so. I’d be willing to further discuss things with her if she finds she is open to the idea.”

The discussion shifted some from there, becoming more theoretical again as they began discussing what else Voldemort might’ve turned into a Horcrux - Hermione had good money on his pet snake - but there were a few different options that were equally as solid as the others, and eventually the conversation wound down because they just couldn’t pick _one_ option and agree on it.

It was about that time that Lupin and Flitwirk returned, both of them struggling with whatever it was that they were magically carrying between them, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that they’d successfully captured the ghoul they’d been sent out to grab.

“Through here,” Severus drawled, having risen to his feet to escort them to Avila’s version of the Room of Requirement, which Hermione was quick to note had already adapted itself to house the struggling lump underneath the blanket.

There were extra locks on the doors, too, and the glass looked thicker than it had been before. Reinforced, probably…

“It’s not exactly happy with us right now,” Lupin huffed, throwing up an extra shield charm just to be safe after he and Flitwick got the ghoul inside. “We’ll probably want to wait a bit before we try transforming it. It’ll be easier to subdue once it tires itself out a bit more.”

“Stunning it didn’t work?” Severus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Not for long.” Lupin shook his head. “And we were worried about continually stunning it and risking properly hurting or even killing it. It’s why we brought it here instead of leaving it in your office, Minerva. Thought it might be easier to keep an eye on here.”

“It needs a calming draught. I’ve got some in my stores. We’ll likely have to feed it before long and can slip the draught in with its food then.”

“Will that give us enough time to transform it, though? Before you have to take it to him?”

“I am proposing that we take “Miss Granger” to him tomorrow after sundown assuming that the evacuation of the students goes accordingly. That should give us twenty four hours, give or take, to properly transform the ghoul and assure that the spells on it hold.”

“How long will we need them to hold for?” Flitwick quietly asked.

“Long enough for the Dark Lord to be convinced that the ghoul actually _is_ Miss Granger, that there is nothing inside her head that will be of use to him, and for him to dispose of the body. If the spells fall early, well…”

Severus didn’t really need to finish the sentence, nor did he. They all knew what was at stake, and just how much he was putting on the line for all of them.

Even Moody seemed to slowly be grasping just how much Severus was risking for all of them, a faint look of appreciation lingering in his good eye.

Dinner would soon be upon them though, and the conversation turned once more to other things, lighter things, though there was still a bit of a cloud lingering over them.

They all knew what was coming, and maybe that was why no one jumped when Severus suddenly sucked in a faint hiss through clenched teeth and tightened his left hand into a fist.

“...I suppose this means you will need to begin the transfigurations without me, Minerva.”

“Be careful, Severus.”

Hermione had been in the process of taking something to the kitchen, and thus had her back to him as he got to his feet, but she turned her head in time to notice him peering over at her as he made his way towards his office.

He gave her a small nod, and somehow Hermione knew that he had just granted her permission to wait up for him in his chambers until he returned.

The next few hours were spent with her simultaneously worried sick about Severus while she also did her best to concentrate on helping Minerva and the others with subduing and then transforming the ghoul, a process that took them well into the morning to complete.

And still, Severus had not yet returned.

It wasn’t until they were finished, and were sitting around drinking cups of tea to rehydrate while Molly worked on breakfast that Hermione heard something crash in Severus’ office, and she was on her feet in an instant, hobbling with her cane towards the noise before anyone else had seemingly processed the commotion.

“She’ll take care of him,” She heard Minerva murmur to someone, but didn’t put any more thought into it as she pushed open the door and let herself in.

He looked… Exhausted, for starters, and Hermione was quick to close the door behind her before she made her way over to him, kneeling down beside him where he sat propped up against the chair he’d likely been trying to take a seat in.

“How’d it go?”

“...He’s… Accepted the… The proposal.”

“Good,” She murmured, reaching out a hand to rest against his cheek, wincing when she felt how clammy his skin was. “Now what can I do for you?”

“I need sleep,” He slowly offered. “And there is a box of potions… In the middle left drawer of that desk…”

Hermione carefully got to her feet again before stalking over as quickly as she could to his desk, pulling open the drawer in question and pulling out the box within.

“The dark blue potion… Please bring it to me.”

“What is it?” She asked as she did so, watching as he unstoppered the vial with his teeth before downing the contents.

“It’s an anticonvulsant. It will help with the tremors from the Cruciatus.”

“Why would he subject you to tha-?!”

“He doesn’t _need_ a reason, Hermione,” Severus quietly interrupted. “It’s just what He does to remind us that we are always at His mercy.”

Hermione nodded, blinking back tears before getting to her feet once more, offering a hand so she could help him to his. It wasn’t exactly an easy task with her needing to rely on a cane as well, still, but they somehow managed.

Severus carefully draped an arm around her shoulders while Hermione wove her arm around his waist, supporting him as they made their way into his quarters, this time not stopping at the couch as they had last time, and Hermione tried her damnedest not to blush when he pushed open the door to his bedroom and she was escorting him inside.

She failed a bit, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen this room before.

This was just the first time in person.

He reached out a trembling hand to rest against one of the bedposts, leaning against it slightly as he turned back to peer at her.

“Thank you, Hermione.”

“I wish there was more that I could do.”

“There will be,” He murmured, giving her a hint of a smile. “Just not right now. We both need rest.”

She nodded. “...do-do you need help with anything else?”

He shook his head. “I believe I can manage the rest from here.”

Hermione took a step towards him though, regardless, her hand reaching out for his so she could gently lace their fingers together.

“Just call for me if you need me though, yeah? I-I don’t want you thinking that I’m abandoning you just to sleep or something…”

“I can assure you that I think nothing of the sort.”

As if to prove his point, he lifted their joined hands to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles before carefully tugging her closer so he could brush a mirroring kiss to her forehead.

“Get some rest, Hermione. We both need it for the days ahead.”

And, over the next few weeks, Severus would learn just how right he was with that statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably safe to assume there'll be a bit of a time skip in the next chapter. We're uh... We're getting closer to the end, folks. I don't know what to do with that information other than present it, so...
> 
> You know how and where to yell :P


	40. Chapter 39: The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Solstice is almost upon us...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is weird, y'all. Hope this chapter makes up for its tardiness...

There was a hand in her hair, tenderly cradling the back of her head while fingers tangled in her wild curls… as lips melted over hers, her own hands gripped onto sweat-slickened flesh… hips crashed together and gasps for air were claimed between a repeated phrase that seemed to stoke the flames of passion higher and higher each time it was uttered.

She’d never felt more alive... or more _cherished_...

Hermione knew the man hovering over her body now, could make out each little dip and angle and curve of his cheekbones and nose and lips, could see the twinkling in his coal-black eyes as he locked gazes with her, could practically _feel_ the tips of his raven-black hair brushing against her skin as he turned to murmur those words against the shell of her ear again and again and _again_ until she awoke with a start mere seconds before her climax...

...For the third time that week.

She knew _why_ Isadora was doing it to her, of course - it wasn’t exactly proper to have an orgasm in another woman’s body - but there was also the lingering thought that perhaps Isadora was making Hermione wait for it so that when it _actually_ happened it would be more… Special.

And, with it only being a week before the Solstice, well… Hermione knew how soon it would be until she actually found out.

So, with a heavy sigh, she climbed out of bed and hobbled towards the bathroom to take a shower, wishing she could take a cold one to temper some of the flames still burning inside of her, but knowing how stupid such a task would be.

The last several weeks had been… Difficult. Even with it now being June and the weather getting steadily warmer, Hermione could feel the tendrils of the _Aíma Págou_ growing steadily larger inside of her, tightening a little bit more every day.

There hadn’t been any attacks from Ivan, at least, but it felt more at this point as though he was letting the _Aíma Págou_ do the work for him.

Her only solace in all of it was her nightly meeting with Severus wherein they continued their research into how to both break that spell and how to create the counter curse to Narcissa’s _Anima Espulsa_.

It was daunting work, and Hermione often left in the wee hours of the morning completely knackered, but there was a warmth in her veins after those hours spent with him, a lingering sort of heat that was largely there simply because Severus had been by her side.

He was the only thing that really repelled the effects of the _Aíma Págou_ , and - though they didn’t last for long - the fact that there was any sort of relief at all was a blessing.

But it hadn’t just been the spells or counterspells they’d been working on together, had it? There were early morning breakfast meetings that were more about getting to know one another than anything else. There were the working lunches in the Avila kitchen where they bounced ideas off of each other and others about keeping Voldemort out of Hogwarts.

There was that fateful night, a week after the Hermione Ghoul had been turned over to the Dark Lord, where everyone watched from the parpets as the body was burned, Severus standing behind the Dark Lord’s left shoulder as he willfully forced himself to stare ahead but not to watch.

Hermione was in his chambers waiting for him to return, holding him long after his trembling finally stopped, her lips pressed to his forehead as she reassured him over and over again that she was there, that she was safe…

It had taken her hours afterwards to get the smell of burnt everything out of her nostrils, but she was sure the horror of watching herself being burned alive was never going to leave her. Him.

**Them.**

And then there was the previous evening, she thought to herself as she climbed out of the shower and wrapped a warm towel around her.

They’d gotten word that Viktor’s message had been received and understood by Ron and that a plan was being put into motion.

Harry and Ron would be returning to Hogwarts in six days.

In seven would be, well… The end. In one way or another.

Getting dressed was more difficult than usual that morning, and Hermione winced at the stiffness in her joints, desperately wishing for them to have discovered the counter-curse to the _Aíma Págou_ already. They were close, but…

It didn’t help that she could feel Ivan’s eyes on her either, that she knew he was watching her throughout the day, seemingly always ready to strike, though never quite going through with it.

It was the anticipation of the attack that was putting her so on edge, and while Constant Vigilance was sort of the name of the game for the Order, there came a point when it was just exhausting.

She was in the middle of pouring herself a cuppa, giving Molly a tired smile as the other witch told her to have a seat at the table while she made her breakfast when she felt something shift inside of her, and she let out a gasp of pain just before the Strain came flooding out of her, surrounding her in its bright blue light as she struggled to stay upright.

“Septima!” She heard Molly call out to her, but she couldn’t see past the shape of Ivan standing on the other side of her protective barrier, couldn’t feel anything past the ice that was suddenly scorching in her veins…

The Strain was turning red, pushing back in anger and its own form of violence as Ivan tried to force his way inside, and Hermione grit her teeth as she struggled to maintain some sort of control.

Distantly, she heard Molly calling for help, but she couldn’t pay any attention to that, couldn’t do anything but focus on keeping Ivan out and away from her.

Her focus was almost broken, however, by a sudden quiet _POP!_ from beside her, and she heard a squeaky voice suddenly speak up from somewhere around her mid-thigh.

“Missus needs our help. The House Elves help the Missus because the Missus helps us!”

A few more _POP!_ s suddenly sounded, and Hermione spared a glance about her, taking note of the elves that had formed a circle around her person, all of them with hands raised much as they had that night in the kitchens so long ago…

This time though, it looked more as though they had an idea about what they were up against, and while Ivan didn’t look scared, Hermione could tell that he was nervous, and his smirk had turned to something more grim as he leveled his gaze at Hermione.

“I’ll be back for you soon enough, poppet. Your little _pets_ won’t be here to protect you forever!”

And just like that, he was gone again, though it took a long moment before the Strain retreated into her body again and before the Elves started to stand down.

“We will not be leaving your side,” The first elf spoke up, turning bulbous eyes up to peer at Hermione. “The Elves protect Hogwarts, and you is Hogwarts now, Missus Avila-Granger-Vector.”

Thankfully, no one but Severus was in the room to hear the elf speak that particular truth, as Molly had gone off to find more help, but the Weasley Matriarch returned with Minerva and Lupin in tow before Hermione could ask just what exactly the elf meant.

“Cuedee,” Severus drawled, “A word, if you please?”

The elf nodded, following along behind Severus as the wizard headed for his office, though the rest of the Elves stayed in formation in their circle around Hermione, not even moving to allow Molly past or to let Minerva come closer when Hermione reached out to her.

“We here to protect!” One of them proclaimed.

“I have no wish to deny you that ri-” Minerva started, but was cut off by another Elf repeating what the first had said, all of them soon picking it up into a faint chorus.

Hermione just looked out helplessly, hands hanging uselessly at her sides as she locked eyes with Minerva and shrugged.

What else could she do, really?

Severus returned a moment later with Cuedee on his heels, the Elf muttering something in a language Hermione couldn’t even begin to guess at to the other elves who quickly gave up their chanting and separated enough to allow Hermione to leave their circle.

She took Severus’ proffered arm, wincing as a shock of cold raced down her spine even as a flood of warmth traveled up her arm from Severus’ touch, watching through a heavy-lidded gaze as Lupin started conducting spells over her and around her to try and determine what had just happened.

“Are you alright?” Severus murmured, his hand resting in the space just above the bend of her elbow.

“I’m not sure.” It was as honest an answer as she could give in that moment, though Hermione knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Ivan again?”

She nodded in confirmation, having given Severus as many of the details about the man in question and his _pursuits_ as she’d been able to some time ago. It was easier for them to develop a counter curse if they knew more about the original curse after all, and thankfully Isadora was willing enough to provide.

“I’ve had an idea on that front,” He murmured, but was stopped from explaining by Remus stepping closer, looking perplexed as he locked eyes with Hermione.

“Whatever sort of magic your attacker is drawing from, I can’t trace it.”

“ _Can’t_?” Severus asked, his grip tightening just a fraction on Hermione’s arm, and she murmured his name to try and calm him down, to little avail. “Have you tried the Aronofsky Method?”

“The Aronofsky?” Remus scoffed. “Of course I have. And the Schuller, and the Daedillis an-”

“And the Faheem?” Hermione asked, hoping to defuse the situation a bit.

Both men looked at her as if she’d grown three extra heads.

“...the Faheem?” Severus quipped with a raised eyebrow.

“I remember reading about it once quite some time ago,” Hermione confirmed, hoping Severus would catch her meaning and not make her explain _too_ much. “But it’s a method the Pakistani magicians use to detect lingering trace amounts of magic?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Remus murmured, eyebrows deeply furrowed.

“...I am reluctant to say one way or the other if I have-” Severus replied. “-though I’m sure there are books on the subject I could peruse.”

“At any rate-” Hermione jumped back in. “-the method is supposed to be one of the most accurate if wielded correctly. Even more so than the Aronofsky Method, though it still has to be wielded within a set amount of time.”

“And by the time we’ve read up on and sufficiently educated ourselves on this subject-” Severus was grumbling. “-this particular incident will be past studying.”

Which means they would have to wait until the next time.

Would Hermione _be_ as lucky next time?

She was pulled from her thoughts again by an elf - Cuedee, if she remembered the name Severus called it by correctly - tugging gently on her robes to get her attention, and she looked down at it with a soft smile.

“Cuedee needs to speak with Missus. With the Potions Master, too.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but she gave the elf a nod, glancing up at Severus who merely quirked an eyebrow before holding out a hand of encouragement to follow as Cuedee started to make its way towards Severus’ office.

The rest of the elves attempted to follow behind, though were forced to wait outside the door after Cuedee gave them another sharp order in what was apparently their native language, and Hermione could just seem them falling into line outside the door as it swung closed.

“Cuedee has been told that Missus Avila-Granger-Vector can not be addressed that way. That the others here at Hogwarts don’t know what the elves know.”

Hermione was a bit taken aback by how quickly the elf had launched itself into the conversation, but shook herself out of it as she moved to claim a seat in one of the chairs, not even blinking now when Severus conjured a blanket for her legs.

“And how is it exactly that the elves _know_?” She asked, eyebrows drawn together in confusion and curiosity.

“We’re elves, Miss.”

“...I’m not following.”

“If I may?” Severus gently cut in, glancing over at Cuedee and continuing when the elf gave a nod of approval. “House Elves have their own particular kind of magic. They are able to Apparate into and out of Hogwarts - and any other warded building, for that matter - and they can see things that we can not. Cuedee was one of the elves present that night in the kitchens when Ivan attacked you.”

Hermione blinked at Severus, not quite following what he was suggesting.

“The elves can _see him_ , Hermione,” Severus clarified, reaching out to rest his hand over hers and give it a gentle squeeze. “They can see him. And you.”

“They can see _me?_ ”

“We can,” Cuedee squeaked. “We can see Missus Granger and Missus Vector and Missus Avila and the bad man that is following them.”

_They can see **me** as well??_

“But ho-?”

“We’re elves, Missus.” Cuedee reiterated, waving her hand as if to dismiss whatever else Hermione was about to ask so she could continue. “Kipsy sent us to keep eyes on you and to act as warnings.”

If they could see Ivan, after all, it stood to reason that they’d be able to stop him before he attacked again, didn’t it?

And then, something else clicked, and Hermione felt her eyes widen as she turned them back over to Severus.

“Severus… They… They can _see me_.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” He agreed with a chuckle.

“No, no, Severus you don’t… You don’t understand. Cuedee… Cuedee just said she could see _Isadora_ , too. Tha- That means they can see _the Strain_ , too.”

Severus eyebrows furrowed at that, as if he was trying to follow along with her logic but was failing spectacularly.

“Hermione, I-”

“If they can see the Strain, Severus, it means they can see the _Aíma Págou_ , too. They can see it and possibly help us remove it!”

She could tell by the look on Severus’ face that he still wasn’t entirely believing what she said, but there was a desperation in her eyes that most assuredly couldn’t be ignored.

_This_ was the link they’d spent the last several weeks looking for, wasn’t it?

But Severus didn’t look so sure.

“Hermione, I… I _want_ to believe that it’s that simple bu-”

“But what if it _is_ , Severus?” She whispered, tears springing to her eyes and Hermione knew she likely looked just as desperate in that moment as she felt.

But she was tired of the constant pain, of the constant cold, of the constant terror that lingered on the edges of her vision and at the back of her neck that the next attack could happen at literally any time.

“I know,” He murmured, coming up a bit out of his crouch to press a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he repeated those two words a few more times.

“I know you want this to be over. I do, too, Hermi-”

“If the elves can see _me_ , Severus-” Hermione interrupted. “-and they can see Ivan and they can see Isadora and the Strain and Merlin knows what else, then why _can’t_ they help us?”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Severus had lifted a hand to gently brush a stray tear off of her cheek, his hand lingering as a warm caress against her skin as he pulled back to lock eyes with her.

“...I’ll discuss it with them and see if what you’re suggesting is possible.”

Hermione was distantly aware of Isadora and Septima discussing it as well, weighing the merits of the suggestion even as they tried to come up with an idea as to _how_ the Elves were even able to see them.

_There is much we do not know about House Elf magic. This is certainly one of those things.  
I wouldn’t mind studying it further one of these days, though. See what all can be learned from them._

Hermione was doing her best to calm herself again, eyes staring pointedly down at her clasped hands in her lap, her head tilted slightly into Severus’ touch as he continued to trace his thumb back and forth across the apple of her cheek.

“I can’t do this for much longer, Severus,” She finally whispered, slowly lifting her eyes to meet his again. “I _**can’t**_. It’s too much…”

“We’ve come this far, Hermione…”

“But how much further can _I_ go?”

She heard a faint pop again, realizing distantly that it was Cuedee leaving to give them some privacy, and she winced at the implications of Cuedee having stayed as long as she did.

At least the elves were known for their ability to keep secrets.

Perhaps it said something about Severus’ understanding of her that he had an answer of sorts for her later that evening when they sat down to eat together, telling her of what he’d learned from his discussions with Kipsy and Cuedee after Hermione had retired to lie down for a bit after everything that had happened.

While the elves couldn’t really explain their magic in a way that Severus could fully understand, he was able to get enough out of them to know that they more or less _could_ remove the _Aíma Págou_ , though doing so would be a hard, laborious thing that was going to take some planning to execute correctly.

Severus had other news for her as well, though, and while it turned out that news was good, it was just as complicated as everything else he’d told her so far.

“...I believe I have found the key to reversing Narcissa’s spell.”

Hermione let the fork she was holding drop back to her plate with a clang, spoonful of cheesecake and all, her two-toned eyes wide as she lifted them to meet Severus’ own black ones.

“You… You _what?_ ”

“I was hesitant to say anything before now,” He murmured, looking a touch bashful. “Because I wasn’t sure if I was correct or not, but after having spent so long talking with the House Elves today, I feel more certain…”

“...certain about what, Severus?”

“That we’ll need to perform both spells at the same time.”

Hermione just blinked at him.

“Kipsy and I talked about it, and it’s what I really wanted to discuss with you tonight.”

“...both spells? At the same time?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes.”

“How-?”

“The Elves will begin their casting to remove the _Aíma Págou_ from you, and as they do so, I’ll cast the _Anima Espulsa_ again. It’ll cast out Ivan’s spell while also casting _you_ out, Hermione, and allow you to return to your own body.”

“...what about Isadora and Septima, though?”

Severus winced at that, and Hermione knew she wasn’t going to like his answer.

“I’m still working on that part.”

“You don’t know.”

“Hermione please don-”

“I can’t just… Just _abandon_ them!!”

“I’m not suggesting you do, lo-”

“They’re _family_ to me now, Severus!”

Hermione didn’t realize she’d gotten to her feet until she felt Severus’ hands on her shoulders, steadying her as she wobbled since her cane wasn’t immediately at hand, but his touch soothed her a bit again.

“I know they are. I’m not suggesting we let them perish in our attempts to rescue you. On the contrary, I believe what I am proposing has the highest chance of saving you all.”

Hermione sniffed, but gave a nod, hoping he would continue his train of thought.

“...when I cast the _Anima Espulsa_ , I… fully suspect that it will actually cast all three of you from Septima’s body.”

“But how do we return to our rightful bodies?”

“That’s the part I’m still working on. There might be a way to _guide you_ as it were, but that will likely remain determinable by the Elves, as well.”

Hermione sighed, allowing her eyes to close as she tried to calm herself back down again, leaning into Severus when she felt him suddenly brush his lips against her forehead.

“We’ll figure all of it out, Hermione,” He murmured, arms slowly starting to wrap around her to pull her into a warm and comforting embrace. “Have no fear.”

And in his arms, she didn’t.

*

The next several days were absolute chaos as Hermione and Severus continued their work on refining what needed to be done with the spells while also doing what they could to prepare for Harry’s arrival.

The Solstice was in two days, and so much still needed to happen.

Which was perhaps part of the reason why Hermione was surprised to see Draco slipping into the Common Room from the outside early that morning, a dark cloak about his shoulders and the hood drawn up as he tried to sneak his way towards his room.

Hermione wasn’t going to let him get away that easily, though.

“Draco?” She quietly called out from her seat at the table. “Everything alright?”

He swore, startling slightly at her call to him, and it was clear that he hadn’t seen her as he’d entered the room, but he swore again and pushed his hood down as he stalked over and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite her.

“Sorry, Septima,” He muttered, giving her a faint smile, heaving a sigh as she prompted him to continue and answer her question.

“Tonight was the first time I’ve been outside of the Castle Wards since the hols.”

“You left the grounds??”

He nodded. “I did. Had an errand of sorts to run.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at that, tilting her head slightly to the side as she studied the blond, wondering just what sort of errand could require him to-

“The Imperius Potion?” She suddenly muttered. “You… You were delivering it to Ron, weren’t you?”

“How could you **possibly** kno-?”

“There’s so much you don’t know, Draco, and so much you’re going to learn over the next couple of days, and I’m _sorry_ but I can’t say any more right now.”

He sighed again at that, obviously trying to accept her answer for what it was, but it was rather clear that he was struggling with it.

“I suppose there’s no sense in hiding it… _Yes_ , I was delivering the potion to Weasley, though I ask you not to ask for any more details on the subject. I can’t really say ho-”

But whatever else Draco was going to say was cut off when Hermione suddenly felt something shift inside of her, and in an instant she had waved her hand and called forth the Strain, eyes widening in shock and panic as she realized that something had fundamentally changed.

Harry and Ron weren’t going to be arriving tomorrow night.

They were arriving _now_.

“Septima?”

“Get Severus and Minerva. Immediately. Something’s wrong and Ron is bringing Harry _now_ and we need to finish preparing the holding room.”

Hermione watched as Draco sprinted off to do her bidding, her mind racing at a million miles an hour as she contemplated what the Strain was telling her, wondering just what was happening that had caused Ron to push up the timetable so drastically.

She heard quick footsteps behind her, though, and she turned her attention away from the Strain to look over her shoulder, giving a nod to Severus and Minerva as they approached with their own forms of worry clearly present on their features.

“They’re coming _tonight?_ ” Minerva asked. “You’re _sure_ , Septima?”

“There’s no question about it,” Hermione confirmed. “We need to prepare for them.”

When the plan for bringing Harry back to Hogwarts first started to unfold, it was quickly pointed out that if Ron simply Apparated the two of them into Avila, Voldemort would likely be able to figure out where they were, and could possibly even attempt a break in himself.

So, it was decided that Ron would give Harry something to “knock him out” as it were - the Imperius Potion - and would blindfold him as they Apparated to the edge of the Forest where they could sneak onto the grounds unnoticed.

Ginny would meet them there and bring them into Avila, where their Room of Requirement would be set up. It would look… Like absolutely nothing at all. All white everything, making it impossible to determine any sort of location, and only a handful of carefully selected people would be allowed in the room to help protect the identities of everyone else.

Now, though, they had to scramble to prepare the space, and Hermione was eternally thankful that the House seemed to be somewhat sentient, having already started to change as soon as Hermione announced that Ron and Harry were showing up a day early.

Satisfied that the work would progress the way it was supposed to without him, Severus went off in search of Ginny to let her know that she would be needed soon to fetch her brother, and Hermione could only guess at the feelings the announcement would bring up for the redhead.

She was about to see her brother and former paramour for the first time in months, one of whom was a Horcrux and more-or-less possessed by an actual Dark Lord.

Hermione didn’t envy her the feeling.

“Are you alright?” Minerva quietly asked as the two of them finished their preparations.

Hermione tried not to jump, honestly she did, but she’d been so concentrated on what she was doing that she ended up jumping slightly anyway before she turned to the elder witch and gave her a small nod.

“As alright as I can be given the circumstances, I suppose…”

“Things will fall into place the way they are supposed to, my dear. Have faith.”

Faith… That was a word she hadn’t heard in a while, wasn’t it?

But how could she argue?

She gave a nod of agreement before taking a deep breath and returning to her work, putting the finishing touches on the space before looking around her to take in their handiwork.

They’d done a remarkable job, and Hermione felt certain that, somehow, they were actually going to pull this off.

She called forth the Strain again then, looking for anything that might give her a clue as to whether or not she was right, and, surprisingly, she found it.

There was a very clean break between Harry’s numbers and Voldemort’s now, though there was an odd sort space between where the split happened and where the numbers before it were still intertwined.

It took Hermione a moment before she realized what it meant.

But she was yanked suddenly from her thoughts when she was called for from the Common Room - well, when Septima was called for - and she scurried as fast as she could with her cane towards the commotion, her spine straightening and her grip on her cane tightening as she took in the scene before her.

Ron and Harry had arrived.

At least, Ron and a body that vaguely resembled the Boy Who Lived had arrived.

“Get him into the room,” Minerva muttered, making sure the blindfold was still tight across Harry’s eyes as she guided Ron on where to take Harry, his usually bright blue eyes hollowed and dark from fatigue and pain.

Severus came to stand by Hermione’s side, careful to keep quiet in case Voldemort was listening in - Severus _did_ have a rather distinct voice, after all - and once Ron and Harry and all the rest had safely ensconced themselves into the Avila Room of Requirement, he let out a hard sigh.

“Everything is as we discussed it, then?”

“With the room?” Hermione asked. “Of course. I did all of the final preparations myself.”

“Lupin and Moody are in there with them now, yes?”

“You know they are, Severus…”

He sighed again. “...I’m sorry, this is just…”

“I know.” Hermione reached out to gently take his hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze as she stepped just a hint closer to him, keeping her hand in his as she enjoyed the flood of warmth that ran up her arm from the contact.

“...I’ve lived this life for twenty years now, Hermione. Seeing it come to an end like this is…”

She remained quiet as she gave him the time to search for the words, finding it strange that a man who was usually so eloquent was at a loss at such a time.

Then again, could she blame him?

“...it’s strange. I’ve been preparing for this moment for _so long_ now, and now that it’s here I feel rather... underwhelmed.”

“It’s probably shock, Severus.”

He snorted at her.

“I’m serious!” She carefully pressed, giving him a faint smile. “It’ll hit you before you know it. But right now, enjoy still being on the clear-headed side of things. It won’t last for long.”

There was a terrible scream that suddenly ripped through the air, and Hermione cringed at the sound of it, stepping further into Severus’ personal space even as he moved to wrap an arm around her waist.

That sound could’ve only come from one person: the person who was suddenly shouting about unclean hands touching him, about blood traitors and Mudblood lovers.

A boy whose eyes had started turning red less than a year ago, and Hermione distantly wondered if any of the bright green from before remained at all.

“...I believe my potion has worn off.” Severus muttered into the sudden quiet stillness that followed another horrific scream.

Harry Potter was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm assuming we all know what's going to happen next chapter? Y/N/M?
> 
> You know where to yell :P

**Author's Note:**

> _This is a reworking of a story that I started **years** ago on another archive site that I abandoned for a handful of reasons. As much as I loved the story, I couldn't make it work then. I think I've figured out how to do so now, and I hope you all are going to enjoy the ride!_
> 
> _You can come find me on[My Tumblr](https://blxck-cxffee13.tumblr.com/) if you're interested or want to chat!_


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